


midnight city

by doitsushine92



Series: nct supernatural series [4]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Dragons Kun and Sicheng, Fairy Chenle, Fallen angels Dejun Kunhang and Yangyang, Fluff, Human Taeil, Humour, Incubus Jungwoo, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Heaven as a burocracy, Merman Jisung, Minor Appearances by The Boyz Hyunjoon and Eric, ONEUS Xion is pretty important to Chenle's arc, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Pixies Ten & Renjun, Polyamory, Romance, Shape-shifting wolves Hansol Yuta and Jaemin, Shifters Jeno and Yukhei, Slight discussion of religion, Urban Fantasy, Vampires Taeyong and Doyoung, Witch Doctor Johnny, Witches Jaehyun Mark and Donghyuck, also the pairings listed aren't the only ships on the story, discussion of sex, poly hyung line, taeil is a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-01-05 18:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18371273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doitsushine92/pseuds/doitsushine92
Summary: They continue to discuss their plans for the day with each other through bites of their breakfast and coffee. Taeil stays quiet like a mouse, smiling to himself. It didn’t take very long for Taeil to realise that, to be perceived as the least threatening person in the house, is the greatest blessing he could have had received. Everyone, but particularly the kids, considers him as intimidating as a new-born puppy, and it works in his favour all the time. Especially at times like this, when he can sit in the background and hear them make plans, diss the adults and insult each other without being noticed.





	1. some people can see what i see

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello beautiful people!! this here is a 12 chaptered fic where i will put the backstories to the characters of this universe!! 
> 
> fic title from the song midnight city, chapter 1 title from the song "evil eye" by franz ferdinand

_March, 2013_

Johnny was only eighteen years old when he inherited the store. He’d been fresh out of high school, bright-eyed with his hopes of running a successful shop that catered to all witches, wizards, warlocks, aficionados and anyone else who dealt in magic. He spent an awful lot of time just planning the layout of the space: he would have a counter in the middle, made of oak if possible; floor to ceiling shelf after shelf on the walls to hold the merchandise; flowers, of course there had to be flowers, all around, but the most important would be the black dahlias on the counter and the angelicas by the entrance; he would have candles on each column of the room, red for energy, purple for wealth, blue for peace, gold for prosperity, green for positivity and orange for success; the small room at the back of the store would most likely stay as a break room, but he was determined on having some flowers there as well, just because.

All things went well. He was already known around the community as courtesy of his mother, so he wasn’t exactly lacking clients, and his great aunt had some loyal clients who frequented the store even after she passed away. Johnny had several other businesses he could get products from, which helped keep the shelves stocked, but the real attraction were the things he could do.

A lot of his customers were willing to pay big money for his work. Some people came in for readings – tea leaves, tarot cards, you name it – and even if it isn’t exactly what Johnny does, he’s adequate enough to get by. Johnny did around five protective talismans every week and a couple of localization spells for old ladies and busy moms with too many kids to keep track of where they left their things. But his most popular service are the pouches: for luck, for communication, for wealth and prosperity, for anything he’s asked for, Johnny has the best herbs, the best oils, the best hands for it. People come and go, almost every day, just to purchase them.

Like today, when a dwarf wanders in with that angry scowl his kind seem to share. He orders a pouch for himself and one for his son to take on a mining trip, one that will guide them through the safe routes and take them back home. Johnny has just finished writing down the specifications, the dwarf already leaving, when he catches sight of the teenagers across the street.

Johnny is used to kids walking into his store. He’s used to the sceptical looks thrown his way when he’s opening in the morning, the religious ladies that call him names whenever he passes by, and he is immune it for the most part. But teenagers never fail to make him nervous; there’s something about the recklessness, the idea of being immortal that is common among his peers, that attracts the strangest of teens to his store.

Some come by to poke fun at him, to giggle among themselves as they browse the shop with little interest and leave after a few minutes with pointed stares aimed at Johnny. He can handle those, since they are harmless, and never linger. Johnny doesn’t like the ones who linger. He doesn’t have good experiences with teenagers who linger.

Johnny watches them out of the corner of his eyes as he tinkers with the stones the dwarf left as payment, putting them into the drawers of the small wooden and glass cabinet he has on the counter. Tension creeps up his shoulders when he sees one of the boys across the street cross the road and approach his store.

This boy doesn’t scream trouble, Johnny thinks. He’s got floppy brown hair and a boyish face, and he’s significantly shorter than Johnny, with narrow shoulders and high cheekbones. He mustn’t be more than a year older than Johnny.

“Can I help you?” Johnny’s voice carries from the back of the store all the way to the front. He watches as the boy startles and nearly drops the vial in his hands – it was empty, thankfully.

“I, uh,” the boy stammers, puts the vial back on the display case and scratches the back of his neck with an awkward grin. “Sorry. No. I’m just looking.”

“Uh huh,” Johnny deadpans. He abandons the vampire fangs on the cardboard box and walks closer to the boy with his most intimidating expression, hoping to scare him off before he can do anything stupid. But then he sees the boy’s eyes sparkling in interest as he lifts a jar of fairy powder and he recognizes something in them – real, heartfelt curiosity.

“Is this really fairy dust?” the boys asks in wonder.

“Yes,” Johnny nods, changing the severe frown for something a little kinder. He can still see the boy’s friends outside, but the boy is oblivious to them, already moving on from the dust to the ghoul fangs. “I just unloaded it yesterday.”

“Cool,” the boy whispers.

Johnny stares at him in amusement for a second and then he says, “I’m Johnny Seo, owner of the shop.”

“Moon Taeil,” the boy – Taeil – says and sticks his hand out for a handshake. “Sorry about them,” he adds, gesturing subtly towards the window. His friends are laughing in that obnoxious way only teenagers can and pointing at the store. Taeil grimaces, “They’re not really my friends. They’re just some guys I know from college. Ignore them.”

“They sent you in here?” Johnny asks.

“Yeah,” Taeil wrinkles his nose, “A stupid dare. They also told me an old lady worked here and that she had a big mole on her crooked nose and smelled like mothballs. Are you the old lady?” he eyes Johnny playfully.

Johnny surprises himself and laughs. “No. They were probably talking about my great aunt, except she didn’t have a mole. Everything else fits the description, though.”

Taeil laughs, not as loudly as Johnny had. He perks up suddenly and picks up a flask full of purple dust. “Hey, is this really wolf bane?”

“Yep,” Johnny pops the ‘p’.

“Mountain ash, ghoul fangs, vampire spit?” Taeil gives Johnny a curious glance. “How the hell did you get that?”

“Vampires aren’t all rich and powerful,” Johnny says, “Some of them need cash and I pay good money for a lot of things.”

“Really?” Taeil hums. “How much do you pay for… thousand year old mummy wrap?” he points to the bandages nailed to the wall.

“For that, I paid close to a one million won,” Johnny shrugs. Taeil’s eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. “But that’s the most expensive thing in here, everything else cost me less than hundreds. A lot of things are payment for my services, like these gems here,” Johnny leads him to the counter and shows him the stones on the wooden case, “The dwarf that came in here before you did gave me these in exchange for guidance pouches.”

“I think you’re supposed to call them little people,” Taeil says slowly, frowning.

“No, he’s a dwarf,” Johnny corrects him, “And a grumpy one. He’s been working at his family grove for a hundred years and counting, and he offers some of the best gems in town. I’ve used some of them for talismans but mostly I sell them to witches that want them for the most specific purposes.”

Taeil looks mystified. “You know, you’re taking all of this surprisingly well,” Johnny tilts his head to the side in wonder.

“I guess,” Taeil gives a half-shrug. “I’m a good character reader and you seem legit. I also may have had some experiences with things in the past. And your tattoos are moving.”

Johnny looks down to his arms in surprise. Johnny often wears the same outfit to work: black slacks, a dress shirt tucked in with the sleeves rolled up and dark shoes. Today, he’s wearing a black shirt, the sleeves up as usual, and Johnny can easily see how the snake that curls around his bicep is now almost to his wrist, and it gives him a wink before dozing off. Johnny blinks in a daze and hesitantly looks back up at Taeil, half-expecting to see him freaked out, but Taeil just seems amused.

“Yeah, it’s been doing that a lot,” Taeil tells him. “The little bird hoped around your hands for a few minutes,” he points out, “and the ladybug on your finger kept fluttering its wings. They’re pretty cool, you know? How’d you do it?”

“I didn’t,” Johnny shakes his head. “It’s a charm that I paid a witch for – this kind of magic isn’t my specialty.”

“They did a great job,” Taeil compliments the stranger so easily, Johnny has to blink several times. Most people he knows would have simply nodded or let the subject go, but Taeil praised the artist without a hint of hesitation or lie in his voice – Johnny likes him even more.

~

Taeil continues to visit the store every week after that, but Johnny never sees his friends again, which isn’t a bummer. Taeil is endlessly curious about everything Johnny does and sells at the shop, asking about the ingredients or the talismans, accepting any answer Johnny will give him – he’s awfully trusting of him, Johnny thinks, and he makes a quiet promise that he won’t ever destroy that trust. Taeil never bothers the customers, never openly ogles the ones that let their shields down when they’re in the store and allow their supernatural traits to show, and he never really asks Johnny about them. But Johnny can always see how he’s dying to know, so he waits an appropriate amount of time after a client leaves before he tells Taeil about their kind or their order.

It doesn’t take too long for them to become close friends. Taeil’s personality is similar to Johnny’s, but they’re different enough not to clash: they’re both friendly, social, but where Johnny could probably chat up a tree, Taeil takes longer to open up to people; their friends all go to them for help, but Taeil likes to play hard-to-get sometimes, while Johnny once left the store in the middle of the day because Sehun got stuck running away from a vampire hunter and needed help getting out of his hiding spot; they make jokes often, terrible jokes that only they find funny and bond over. But what finally does Johnny in is how open Taeil is to everything he learns at the shop.

Like the one time a fairy walks into the store, looking for one thing or another and immediately started talking to Taeil. Johnny had warned him before about fairies, how you couldn’t just _trust_ them without a second thought, and Taeil remembered that piece of advice when the fairy asked for his name.

“I’m Taehoon,” Taeil said, not quite looking the fairy in the eyes.

The fairy had only smiled, looked at Johnny and said, “You taught him well,” before skipping out of the store.

So yes, Johnny is very proud of Taeil for being a fast learner. There are other instances, of course, that never fail to make Johnny swell with delight: when a warlock walks in and Taeil doesn’t even blink at the yellow, cat-like eyes on his face, or when a teary-eyed dryad runs into the store in a panic because she accidentally dropped the pot where she keeps her small tree in and needs fresh dirt from the grove and some revival herbs for the twigs that have nearly died already, her green skin slowly turning black in front of them the longer her tree went out of dirt. Taeil had been a real trooper about it, rushing off to the backroom to grab the dirt from the unloaded box and bringing it back to the front in record time.

Taeil never judges Johnny for what he does, not even when Johnny explains to him about his family.

“I do voodoo,” Johnny tells him one afternoon. It is near to closing time and the store is empty, orange light streaming in through the windows and decorating the shop in a strange glow. Johnny is busy rearranging the flower vase on the counter, as he has been for the last fifteen minutes because the dahlias seem to be angry at the angelicas and do not want to stay in one place, but he thinks Taeil deserves to know. “Well, I actually do vodun, which is a variation of sorts. It’s the kind known from New Orleans.”

“Vodun is more common in Africa, specifically in places like Nigeria and Benin,” Johnny continues. Taeil’s hand goes up. “Yes?”

“Not to sound racist or whatever,” Taeil says, “But you’re not African.”

“Clearly,” Johnny nods.

“So how come you practice it?”

Johnny fixes one of the dandelions on the vase as he speaks, “My grandmother on my mom’s side lived in Africa as a kid and she learned from a woman in the village. When she returned to Korea, she got married, had kids and passed down the tradition. My mother specializes in the Haitian variation of Vodou but I found I have skills for the Louisiana voodoo, like my great aunt.”

“What’s the difference?” Taeil asks.

Johnny pauses for a moment to find the right words. “There isn’t much difference, per se,” he says slowly. “Think of it as languages: Brazilian Portuguese is different to European Portuguese, but they can still understand each other. I think of my religion like that as well.”

“Okay,” Taeil nods. Johnny’s glad to see he understands. “And what are you called? I mean, I know women are often called queens.”

“Bokor is the traditional name,” Johnny gives the finishing touches to the bouquet of flowers and smiles contently. “But witch doctor is easier to remember.”

“What about those creepy dolls in _White Zombie_?” Taeil tilts his head.

“Please,” Johnny rolls his eyes. “The idea of voodoo dolls being used to curse people is just the product of commercialization. In hoodoo, which is kind of born from voodoo, the dolls are more of a blessing than a curse. Sticking the pins into them is meant to give a name to the doll, so it can be used to ail a person.”

“So you do white magic?” Taeil concludes.

“I serve the loa with both hands,” Johnny smiles, reciting what his mother said to him. “That means I can do both good and evil. I chose to do good magic, white magic, but that doesn’t mean I can’t to do evil.”

“What’s a loa?”

“You’re full of questions, aren’t you?” Johnny teases him. Taeil looks away in embarrassment, which makes Johnny feel bad. “It’s not a bad thing,” Johnny tells him gently. “It means you’re open to the whole deal and that is good. Loa is a spirit that serves as the middle man between the humans and Bondye, who’s the lord of the supernatural world. And I think that’s enough for today,” Johnny spies the last customers of the day approaching the store – he recognizes Yeri, a young witch who’s taken the habit to frequent his shop more and more, and the lady behind her is here to pick up her luck bag. Johnny fishes the pouch from the counter’s drawer and keeps it within reach.

Taeil hovers, perhaps a little awkwardly. He’s never still around by this time of the day and he seems at a loss for what to do. “You can stay until I close shop,” Johnny tells him. “It shouldn’t be long.”

~

Johnny can’t pinpoint when, exactly, their relationship changes. He thinks it’s because it wasn’t just one thing that led them to where they are now, but rather a combination of many instances.

It’s the way Taeil looks at him now, with a thinly veiled expression of fondness and awe. Johnny doesn’t fail to notice how his eyes linger on his forehead when he combs his hair back, or how Taeil seems to blush whenever Johnny smiles at him for too long.

It’s how Johnny felt his mouth dry when Taeil walked in one day with his hair dyed black and shaved on one side, a shy shuffle of his feet as he asked Johnny if he liked it. Johnny didn’t know how to explain to him that Taeil could shave his head and wear a potato sack and Johnny would still find him breath-taking.

It’s the two of them hanging out outside of the store, ever since that night Johnny asked Taeil if he wanted to get some coffee and the two had spent three hours at the café until they were kicked out. Afterwards, Johnny insisted on walking Taeil home, much to the shorter boy’s embarrassment. Johnny felt a little too much pleasure at seeing Taeil so flustered because of him.

It’s also Johnny kissing Taeil after dinner one night. If asked, Johnny will say it was his gut, but to be honest, it was just pure impulse. He’d been looking at Taeil, the light of the lamppost bouncing off his silver earrings and that smile he reserved for Johnny, and suddenly Johnny was leaning down and kissing Taeil. It was nothing more than a press of their lips, and yet it gave Johnny chills down his spine.

After that, after Taeil kissed him back within seconds and then proceeded to call Johnny an idiot for taking so long, Johnny was on cloud nine. It took him a while to really know what they were – and he felt silly, wondering that, but he could never bring himself to ask – but Johnny feels safe to call Taeil his boyfriend.

And if they aren’t, then Taeil will have to do a lot to reassure Johnny that he doesn’t go around letting random boys throw him up against a wall and kiss him the second they are out of public sight.

Taeil is a great kisser, Johnny thinks. He’s not eager, exactly, he actually kisses with laziness, his hands slowly roaming Johnny’s back and his lips moving only enough to reciprocate, but Johnny loves it. Taeil has a habit of pulling away from him to say the most mundane things in the world, like reminding Johnny he has to pick up his laundry or to say, absentmindedly, that he thinks he left the sink’s tab open this morning.

But it’s whatever. Johnny isn’t about to complain about things like that, not when he finds them completely endearing.


	2. shimmer in the midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from gallows by cocorosie

_November, 2013_

Renjun meets Johnny personally, but Ten knew Johnny’s aunt; when he was young, he used to sell to her whatever she needed, from his milk teeth – yes, pixies loose teeth – to strands of hair, pixy dust and even nail clippings. She paid him decent money for those things and always sent him on his way with homemade bread or cookies. Johnny was often around back then, hiding behind his aunt’s legs when she talked to Ten and waving at him shyly right before he left. 

Ten doesn’t have a family. Pixies, or most of them, are not big on families, not like other creatures are, like werewolves or vampires, that crave the safety and comfort that only a pack or a clan can provide. He’s been alone for as long as he can remember, bouncing around from one forest to another, sleeping on branches and blanketed by their leaves, eating berries and acorns and flowers and watching the humans go about their lives from the foliage. But with the whole problem of deforestation in the world and how increasingly harder it’s gotten to hide away from the human eye, Ten has to make do with what he can: living in a small apartment on the outskirts of town, selling actual body parts just to scrape by. The apartment isn’t anything too impressive: there’s a tiny living area, a bathroom, a kitchenette and a small bedroom – although calling it a bedroom is a little generous, it’s barely a small room with a window and a door that separated it from the rest of the apartment. He had to use a lot of magic to convince the landlord to let him rent the place, and Ten even had to hire a warlock to finesse the final details, but at least he’s got a roof over his head. And things just get harder when he meets Renjun. 

Renjun is nothing but a little thing when Ten finds him, barely seven years old, hiding in a tree at a park, his little wings fluttering nervously whenever anyone walks by. Ten is eleven, physically at least, but pixies mature differently to humans and even among their kind some are faster than others, so while Ten had the maturity of an adult, Renjun was still a kid and Ten didn’t have the heart to do anything other than to take him home, run him a bath and cook him something warm. Renjun was perpetually squeamish for weeks, only stepping a foot out of the bedroom when it was absolutely necessary and he was certain Ten wasn’t wherever Renjun was headed to, be it the bathroom or the little kitchen. Ten let him sleep on the bed while he took over the ratty couch that came with the apartment, until Renjun trusted him enough and they started sharing the thin mattress Ten had in the bedroom.

But then there was the question of what they fuck they were going to do next. It’s not like they had a council or a court to help them, they’re not like the Fair Folk, there’s no Seelie Queen or anyone else to go to. Ten could barely survive alone, there was no sensible way he could handle a _child_.

They live, somehow, for the next six years, in that same apartment. Renjun hardly ever walks out the door for the first three years, too scared to go into the real world, and Ten’s too nervous himself to bring Renjun along when he looks for jobs. No one wants to hire a child, or a teenager, let alone one that came with a small kid attached to his leg, and Ten was running out of things he could provide witches with. Ten even considered signing up as a test subject for one of those warlocks uptown – it would be the most demeaning thing he could do, but it seemed like his only choice, especially on the nights he had to send Renjun to bed without dinner. The winters were worse, when Renjun got dreadfully cold and he wouldn’t stop shivering no matter what Ten did, their apartment endlessly freezing.

Once, Renjun goes out to a park in the morning and returns at night with a handful of cash. Ten is appalled, terrified to think about Renjun stealing that money, but Renjun explains to him, in a soft, squeaky voice that is beginning to sound like Ten’s, that he’d just sat on a bench and people went up to him to offer him their help.

Ten isn’t happy about it. Sure, he’d done a lot of things in the past to make it through – he’d enchanted, hired warlocks, sold parts of his own body – but he’d avoided begging with a vengeance. It left Ten with a bitter taste in his mouth, the idea of little Renjun sitting all by himself, surrounded by strangers; especially when he knows what people see: a small, underfed boy, wearing clothes too big for him and his limbs too short for his age. At least the large clothes serve the purpose of hiding his wings – wings that are too tiny for him, as well; wings that should be bigger, if he were to eat well.

Renjun doesn’t listen to Ten when the older pixy tells him to stay home, that he’s got this and that he doesn’t need to go there. Renjun sneaks out of the apartment when he has to and he’s smart enough to switch the locations every once in a while, so not only can’t the authorities catch him, but also so Ten can’t drag him away. 

The police find him, once. They’re humans, an old man with a thick moustache and a young woman, seemingly just out of the Academy. Renjun is sitting at his usual corner of the market, a little hat balanced on his knees while he plays with a stray cat that insists on rubbing up and down his legs, when the lady crouches in front of him. Renjun, after years, will still remember the look in her eyes when she asks for his name, that sickening pity that turned her mouth down and furrowed her brows. They try taking him away, the man’s grasp on his wrist painful as he drags him to the police car before Ten shows up.

Ten could feel something was wrong the entire day. After being with the boy for so long, Ten had developed a sixth sense for Renjun and it is that sixth sense that leads him straight to the market, just in time to see Renjun about to be put into the car. Ten spent hours wandering around the city, half mad out of his mind with worry and the horrible sensation that Renjun was in trouble and with no way of knowing where he was or if he was alright.

When Ten finally finds him, Renjun is struggling against the officers, his fists curled tight and his shirt halfway off and even from afar, Ten can see his wings about to rip through the fabric from their frantic fluttering. Ten swoops in, shouting about being his older brother and they better get their hands off him. 

Of course, the officers aren’t rushing to relinquish his custody to Ten. The lady is adamant about going to the station, that Ten needs to fill out some paperwork and whatnot, but Ten can see right through her: they’re going to take Renjun away from him. However, Ten isn’t about to let that happen. With strength he didn’t know he has, Ten yanks Renjun to his side, the smaller pixy stumbling as he goes, but ultimately latches on to Ten’s leg and hides behind him, only his eyes visible as he peers out to the officers.

Ten has a lot of things to say, but he eats his words. The male officer is a lot harsher as he tells Ten that he clearly can’t take care of his brother and that they’d both be better off in foster homes and that is all Ten allows himself to hear before he takes off, hoisting Renjun into his arms. He runs without giving a shit about the stares they receive, without daring to look back to see if the officers are still behind them or if they’ve given up on them. 

Ten only stops when they’re back at the apartment with the door firmly locked behind them. He tries to place Renjun on the ground, but the boy won’t let go of him, his tiny arms clinging to Ten’s neck as he sobs into his shoulder. Renjun apologizes, over and over, promising that he’s never going back there again, that he’ll never disobey Ten again. 

“Please, don’t be mad,” Renjun whispers. Ten’s heart breaks. 

“I’m not mad at you, baby,” Ten soothes him, rubbing up and down Renjun’s back. He’s in a terrible crouching position and his legs are trembling from the effort, but Renjun is hanging from his neck and Ten has to keep them both balanced somehow. “It’s alright.”

“Don’t leave me,” Renjun wails. “I will never, ever do anything wrong again, I promise.”

“I know, I know,” Ten repeats, over and over, until Renjun isn’t crying anymore, but Ten still feels like his chest might cave in from all the pain. “I am never leaving you behind, Renjun.”

“Do you promise?” Renjun’s lips quiver, his eyes brimming with more tears. 

Ten offers him his pinky finger. “I promise,” Ten says seriously, locking eyes with Renjun, “that as long as I live, I am never leaving you. It’s you and me, kid. Against the world.”

That night, Ten nearly dies suffocated under Renjun’s weight, the pixy splayed over him and sleeping soundly on his chest, but Ten figures he at least has Renjun with him. That’s better than the alternative of losing him. 

Renjun goes back to being afraid of leaving the apartment, and now he’s _also_ afraid of Ten leaving and not coming back. Ten indulges him one day and stays home, but the next day he has to drag his body out the door even though Renjun is crying on the couch. The following couple of weeks are torture, having to walk out on a sobbing Renjun every morning and coming back at night to find him sitting on the couch, sniffing quietly into his sleeves and his eyes bloodshot red.

One night, Ten comes back with something hidden in his hoodie. He’s been saving up money for months, and today he finally had enough to purchase a gift for Renjun. Ten sits next to Renjun and smiles faintly as the kid climbs into his lap, immediately aware of the bag Ten had stashed in his clothes.

“Yeah, uh,” Ten smiles sheepishly. Renjun only stares at him in confusion. Ten sighs, pulling out the little gift and offering it to Renjun. “Happy birthday, buddy.”

Renjun’s eyes light up as he takes the package from Ten’s hands, gasping when he sees what it is: a white stuffed bunny, with long floppy ears and black buttons for eyes. It’s not much, but Renjun hugs it to his chest and stares up at Ten with big, shiny eyes filled with gratefulness. Ten doesn’t think this much cuteness is good for his health. 

Renjun sleeps with the bunny every night, barely lets it out of his hands during the day. And now, instead of coming home to a crying child, he finds Renjun fluttering around the apartment, sometimes cleaning with the broom they got from a neighbour, sometimes cooking something on the kitchenette. They don’t have a TV, but Ten makes sure to get him a library card and takes a weekend off to teach him how to read and write, Renjun far too excited about learning. And he’s fast, too, writing his name in Korean and Chinese in just a day. Ten tries teaching him to write it in Thai as well, but Renjun looked so lost he gave up. 

For the next year, Renjun spends the day at the library, reading piles of books from the age-appropriate category, eventually moving on to things more complicated after the librarian saw him leaf through the books with ease. Every night, he yaps to Ten about the stories, sometimes bringing his favourite ones to read to Ten. Ten would be more surprised Renjun eats those books for breakfast if he didn’t already know Renjun is a little smartass. 

A little after Renjun’s eleventh birthday, Renjun meets Johnny at his store. Ten wasn’t there, but he hears from Renjun that he met a nice witch that gave him an agate stone, “To keep me safe!” and told him to come back to the store soon. From his description, Ten figures out he’s talking about Johnny, the nephew of the witch who used to buy from him. He heard she died a year earlier, and he’d never bothered to go back to the store after that. 

And he doesn’t go back there, not for two more years, although Renjun still visits once or twice a month. In the meantime, Ten continues to bounce from one job to another, making money to improve their living situation even if just a bit: to buy a better mattress, to fix the heater and purchase clothes that actually fit them. It’s still far from ideal, but Renjun isn’t dreadfully thin anymore and Ten doesn’t feel like he might pass out in the middle of the day. 

When Renjun is thirteen, he finally convinces Ten to go to the store. He’s taller now, his voice is squeaky – it _definitely_ sounds like Ten’s – and he’s perhaps even more stubborn than Ten. Johnny blinks when he sees him, but his face soon lights up with recognition and he’s ushering them in, asking if they’d like some coffee or tea.

Ten isn’t comfortable here. He feels too exposed, too aware that Johnny knows him and can see they’re not in their best moment, and he swears the second he sees one pitying look, he’s taking his kid and he’s going home. Johnny never gives him a reason to leave. 

Johnny is _nice._ He’s sweet and kind and funny and handsome and Ten wants to hate him, just out of pettiness. And the worst part is how good he is to Renjun, making him laugh and showing him cool tricks with his magic. Ten nearly shits his pants when a spark of red starts dancing around them out of nowhere, but then he notices Renjun giggling in glee and it’s such a nice sound to hear. He hasn’t heard Renjun sound so happy in too long. 

While Renjun snoops around the store, Johnny stays with Ten in the backroom. “Are you sure it’s okay to let him be out there alone?” Ten asks nervously. He trusts Renjun, but he’s also afraid the young pixy might accidentally break something Ten can’t afford to pay. 

“He's fine,” Johnny waves his concerns away, offering Ten something wrapped in a napkin. “I made cupcakes the other day but Taeil refused to say if they were good or not.”

Ten has no idea who Taeil is, but he knows the cupcake is good. He says so to Johnny, who smiles brightly and offers one to Renjun as well. The kid looks as if he’s on cloud nine. For two weeks, Ten lets Renjun drag him to the store, only pretending to be annoyed – he’s actually eager to go, butterflies swarming in his stomach at the thought of seeing Johnny again. So he’s got a crush, sue him. Ten can’t help it, not when Johnny keeps touching his neck for no particular reason and is so tall.

Taeil comes to the store one day while they’re there. Ten can tell right away that he’s got something with Johnny, and he feels like a fool for reading too much into their interactions – all the lingering touches, the longing stares, or at least that’s how he saw them. Clearly, he was wrong. He’s ready to feign an emergency and run out when Taeil asks Renjun if he’d like to get ice cream with him while Johnny talks to Ten about something important. Ten tries to stop them, but Renjun is out the door already, Taeil hot on his heels. 

“You wanted to talk?” Ten asks. Johnny startles at the harsh tone, his cheeks losing colour when he sees the unimpressed arch of Ten’s eyebrows. “So talk.”

“Uh,” Johnny fumbles for words. Ten thinks, faintly, how cute he looks when he’s nervous, but then he stamps that down as soon as it comes. _Johnny’s taken_ , he reminds himself. “Right. Well, it’s kind of complicated, should we sit down?”

Ten doesn’t want to sit down. If he’s being honest, he wants to run and hide in his apartment; he also kind of wants to cuddle Renjun, but he’s going through some kind of pesky adolescent phase and he’s been avoiding any attempt of affection from Ten. Yet, Ten takes a seat on the break room, as far away from Johnny as possible. 

“Okay,” Johnny sighs, his eyes flickering from one side of the room to another, landing on Ten briefly, before he looks away once more. “You met Taeil.”

“Clearly,” Ten grumbles. 

“And you’ve met me,” Johnny powers on, paying little mind to Ten’s hostile behaviour. “And I know that you and Renjun are having some troubles, and Taeil suggested -”

“I don’t want your charity,” Ten interrupts sharply. “We don’t _need_ your charity.”

“It’s not,” Johnny huffs out, “ _charity_. You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”

Ten purses his lips, but he’s aware he’s being more difficult than needed, so he shuts his mouth. Johnny sighs again, deflating on the chair. “Taeil and I just moved into a new apartment,” he says slowly, “and there’s a spare room. I also need someone to help run the front of the shop while I stay here and work the appointments.”

“In the break room?” Ten can’t help but ask. 

“No,” at least, Johnny cracks a smile, “I’m expanding the back of the store. This space we’re in will get a tad bigger then redecorated and turned into an office. The rest of the back will be the new break room. I’ll need a clerk. I’m offering you a job. And a room at our place for you and Renjun.”

After Ten only stares at him incredulously, Johnny continues, “The apartment is right above the store, on the third floor. I also know Renjun isn’t going to school? Taeil is an Education major and he thinks he can help bring Renjun up to speed with what his peers know and then we can enrol him at public school right here on the district.”

“And what would you get out of it?” Ten narrows his eyes. He refuses to believe it’s that simple. 

“An employee to handle the annoying humans that come in to mock me,” Johnny says flatly. “Look, Ten, I honestly don’t mean any harm with this. I wasn’t even going to mention staying with us until Renjun told me you guys live far away and I thought you might be more inclined to taking the job if you didn’t have to take three different buses every day. You’ll get minimum wage and all other benefits,” Johnny reassures him. “And Renjun will get to go to a real school in autumn.”

“That’s not fair,” Ten hisses. How dare he use Renjun against him? 

Johnny only shrugs and stares at him impassively. Ten wants to shake him, get the old Johnny back, the one who’s easy to read like a book, not this. Ten takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before he looks back at Johnny and says, “Thank you. I’d like that job… and the room, I guess.”

Johnny finally smiles, brighter than he has all day, and says, “Awesome. I’ll let Taeil know and we can help you guys move!”

“No!” Ten splutters. “We got it. It’s just clothes, anyway. Just let me know when we can come and we’ll be here.”

Johnny seems like he wants to protest, but something in Ten’s expression must hold him off because he only says, “You can move in this Saturday. And then, you can start on Monday.”

“Great,” Ten mumbles. Johnny’s smile dims a little, but Ten continues, “Seriously, Johnny. Thank you.”


	3. they lose their minds for us (now we're coming for blood)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from glory and gore by lorde

_February, 2014_

Doyoung shares a look of utter boredom with Taeyong for what feels like the hundredth time this evening. Doyoung knows there’s no use for them to be here, sitting on stupidly plush chairs in the heart of the clan’s headquarters, listening to their leader rave about one thing or another, but _everyone_ has been summoned to the meeting and Doyoung is smart enough not to miss it.

Taeyong sits slumped over in his chair, staring off into distance, his eyes dimmed from their usual light. Their clan leader, an old as fuck vampire that goes by the name of G, and nothing else, slaps the table and startles everyone into attention. For someone who’s been around for thousands of years, he’s awfully energetic when he gets in one of his moods. G shouts something, Taeyong slinks further down his seat and Doyoung… he would be snoring by now, if vampires could sleep. 

It doesn’t help at all that the meeting room is devoid of anything remotely interesting. The table they’re sitting at is a long, wooden thing, worn with years of use and abuse. Sat around it are twenty or so vampires, all of which belong to Doyoung’s and Taeyong’s clan, some older than others. Doyoung knows that Tabitha is almost as old as G, while their youngest member is a little over twenty years old. Doyoung doesn’t care for how old he is, but he knows he’s somewhere near fifty years old. Thick, purple drapes hang over the windows and block out the sun from streaming in, preventing a tragedy. Doyoung wonders, idly, what would happen if he stood up and let the sun touch them; he would be fine, undoubtedly, being a day walker and all, but Taeyong would disintegrate along with the rest of their clan. There’s a bookshelf on one wall, but it only has books in dead languages that Doyoung can’t be bothered to learn for the life of him.

After what feels like an eternity, G dismisses them. He’s the first one out the door, followed closely by the others, until only Taeyong and Doyoung are in the room. Doyoung stands, stretches his arms over his head and walks closer to where Taeyong is. Taeyong tilts his head up and offers him a lazy smile, the exhaustion weighing down his body. Doyoung halts a breadth away from him and lets Taeyong rest his head on his torso, carding long fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. 

“When was the last time you fed?” Doyoung asks. Taeyong shrugs, a purposeful sigh escaping his lips when Doyoung scratches his scalp right above his nape. “I’m serious,” Doyoung insists gently. 

“G cut me off from the supplies, don't you remember?” Taeyong lifts his eyes to him. “Six months.”

Hot white fury overwhelms Doyoung for a second. All Taeyong did was refuse to murder a werewolf, and G was angry enough to restrict him from accessing the clan’s blood bank. Surely, that would have been an okay punishment for a vampire that knew how to hunt, but Taeyong never got the chance to learn – Doyoung sired him, only a few years into vampirism and he’d panicked, taking him back to the headquarters before Taeyong was awake. And since he turned him without permission, G punished Doyoung with reduced privileges and odd jobs and Taeyong had grown in confinement, only seeing the outside world after ten years of being a vampire, always feeding from the supplies. One of the reasons G was so displeased with him all the time. Taeyong can’t just walk out, find a human and feed from them, because fifteen years into being a vampire and the boy has no idea how to do it. 

“I’m taking you out to hunt tonight,” Doyoung says with finality. Taeyong tries to protest, but his eyes flash in hunger and Doyoung knows Taeyong can’t go much longer without feeding. “No buts. Come on, the sun’s going down soon.”

~

The streets of Seoul are dark when the two of them leave the headquarters. Taeyong and Doyoung soar over the city skyline in bat form, nothing more than two shadows mingling in the night. Doyoung keeps sharp eyes on the alleys they pass, looking for an easy prey. He finds too many hobos, addicts and drunks, but he doesn’t want Taeyong’s first catch to taste so terribly – but he’s also not interested in letting Taeyong lose control over his hunger, so he forces himself to settle for a garbage man.

The stench of trash is almost overwhelming: dirty diapers, rotten eggs, expired milk, among other smells, infiltrate Doyoung’s nostrils and he swears it feels like they reach his brain and settle in his skull. They sit, still transformed, atop a fire-escape and watch as the man picks up a black bag and dumps it in his trunk. Doyoung thinks he’s supposed to have a partner, but he won’t go around looking a gifted horse in the mouth – or however that phrase goes. 

Doyoung sends one quick order to Taeyong before parting ways. Doyoung stands at the mouth of the alley as soon as the man turns his back to the truck, blocking off his exit, while Taeyong hides in the darkness of the dead end. It’s Doyoung’s responsibility to back the man into a corner, where Taeyong will be free to pounce without risking prying eyes. Doyoung doesn’t speak as he moves forward, the man stumbling backwards after he tries multiple time to get Doyoung to speak, only to fail. When it’s hunting time, Doyoung detaches himself from his humanity, because it’s easier to feed if he isn’t thinking that perhaps scaring poor humans isn’t very nice. Doyoung used to reassure his victims that everything would be fine, everything would be over in no time, but that only gave them more time to run away or increased the likeliness of anyone walking in on them. 

Upon closer inspection, the man is actually quite young. He can’t be a day over twenty-five and his skinny wrists are visible under the sleeves of his work suit. Doyoung feels a twinge of relief – younger people are the best choice for feeding, because they heal faster and are easier to manipulate into forgetting everything. The man’s – boy’s – eyes are wide with fear and Doyoung has to look away before he feels bad. 

Taeyong knows the basics, of course. Doyoung explained them to him briefly while they waited for the sun to go down, but he still stays behind him while Taeyong corners the boy into a wall. “Stay clear of the carotid,” Doyoung says to Taeyong, their bodies pressed together. Taeyong shivers, even if he feels no temperature, when Doyoung’s breath hits his nape. Doyoung trails a finger down the boy’s neck to a pulse point and presses carefully. “Here. This is your best shot.”

A strangled yelp and then the boy is quiet, his body going limp in Taeyong’s arms as the vampire bites into his skin. Doyoung licks his own lips at the sight of the blood dripping from the wound, but holds back – he fed recently. Taeyong needs this more. Doyoung counts the seconds that pass by, a careful ear on the boy’s heartbeats so he can pull Taeyong away when he must. When it’s time, Doyoung places a hand on Taeyong’s shoulder and murmurs into his ear that he’s taken enough blood. Taeyong takes a reluctant step back, and Doyoung moves back as well, the two still one blob of bodies. 

Doyoung handles the erasure of the human’s memories. The boy’s eyes lose focus, his jaw slackens and he mutters, to himself, “I’ll go eat something rich in vitamins. Tonight never happened,” and then he’s gone, stumbling towards his truck and climbing on, and then he’s driving off. Doyoung turns his proud eyes to Taeyong. 

“You did great,” Doyoung praises him. “Although you’re kind of a messy eater.”

Taeyong smiles. His fangs pierce his lips, his shirt has stained beyond salvation and his eyes are brighter than they’ve been in years. Doyoung watches a single drop of blood fall from his chin to the shirt he’s wearing, his stomach twisting with a strange hunger and desire. Taeyong’s head tilts sideways curiously when he notices the stare and he asks, “What is it?”

Doyoung’s reply comes in the form of a kiss. As sire and fledgling, Taeyong has fed from Doyoung before: the first time, when Doyoung turned him, scared out of his mind; and a few times after that, when the clan was running low on supplies or Doyoung wanted Taeyong to taste something other than packed blood. With the exception of the first time, they usually fell into bed together after such feedings, high on bloodlust. Therefore, it isn’t too strange for them to kiss and Taeyong doesn’t protest when Doyoung pushes him against the wall, only placing a hand on Doyoung’s waist and humming his consent. 

Taeyong likes slow, sweet kisses, and Doyoung always indulges him, though this time Doyoung allows some space for his own tastes and ravishes Taeyong’s mouth, savouring the blood and Taeyong’s distinct flavour – Doyoung used to wonder how it could be possible for him to taste like anything other than iron, but that’s just Taeyong for you. Taeyong grips him tighter and kisses back, as easy as breathing had been, lets Doyoung take a handful of his hair and pull on it lightly. Taeyong feels every inch of skin where they touch on fire and he can smell Doyoung better than he has in two weeks. He takes in a lungful of breath even if he doesn’t need to – he likes how Doyoung smells of freshly cut grass and dirt, because he’s the only day walker in the clan and handles the gardens while everyone stays inside the hotel. Doyoung smells like _life._

“We should probably head back,” Taeyong says softly. He doesn’t move farther than necessary to speak, their lips still touching. Taeyong has always felt the strongest pull towards Doyoung, the urge to stay close to him, to touch him at all times. Tabitha, Yebin and other vampires of the clan told him that it was just because Doyoung is his sire, and that it would go away over the years, but Taeyong still feels it, even when he thinks Doyoung will drive him mad. Somehow, he doesn’t think it has anything to do with being sire and fledgling. “Before G finds out we’re gone.”

Doyoung makes a disgruntled noise. He doesn’t need a reminder of G; he’s aware the old vampire will have their heads if he finds out Doyoung disregarded his orders and took Taeyong hunting, but he can’t find it in himself to give a single shit about it. Taeyong is _his_ , his fledgling, his responsibility. Doyoung isn’t about to let him starve. 

~

So, perhaps Doyoung underestimated G’s reaction. Their leader is absolutely fired up with rage when they return to the hotel, and his words are final: they’re out of the clan for disobeying him. G gives them fifteen minutes to clear out their room, and then they’re either gone or he’s personally taking care of them. 

Doyoung seethes in silence as he packs. It’s not that he’s too bummed out for being out of the clan, but he’s angry at G for being such a pain in the ass. Taeyong looked devastated at the news, and Doyoung’s heart aches for him. Doyoung wants to behead G just for making Taeyong frown like that. _Good fucking riddance_ , he thinks to himself, _the clan is full of pussies, anyway._

_If only Taeyong felt the same._

Taeyong is moping around the suite as he shoves clothes into his suitcase, uncaring if they’re wrinkled or not. Doyoung knows what he’s thinking, even after he blocks out Taeyong’s mind: they don’t have anywhere to go. 

“Tae,” Doyoung says kindly, “we’ll be fine, trust me. We got money; we can find somewhere else to stay.”

“That’s not really what worries me,” Taeyong nibbles on his bottom lip. “I don’t know what life without the clan is. I think I might actually miss some of them.”

Doyoung is by his side with three long strides. He cups Taeyong’s face gently in his hands and gives him the sweetest smile he can muster. “You have me,” he reminds him, “and I got you. Isn’t that enough?”

“Of course,” Taeyong seems insulted Doyoung would suggest otherwise. “But what if I get tired of your ugly mug? Who’s going to save me from you?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes and drops his hands. If Taeyong is in the mood for jokes, that means he’s probably not that sad anyway. “We got seven minutes, let’s get moving,” Doyoung reminds him.

There isn’t much in the suite that belongs to them and not the hotel; their clothes and shoes fit into two separate suitcases, and the rest of their things are packed in a backpack Doyoung finds at the furthest end of their closet, including a jewellery box belonging to Taeyong’s mother and a diamond ring that belonged to Doyoung’s sister. 

Tabitha is waiting for them at the entrance of the hotel. Doyoung squares his shoulders, prepared for a berating, but Tabitha only presses an envelope into his hand. “For expenses,” she says, as if that would explain everything. She sends Taeyong a motherly glance and then she disappears from the hall, like she was never there.

~

Taeyong snuggles further into his coat and turns his face away from the park. His mind is pounding with all the unfiltered thoughts that fleet in and out, feeling like he might pass out if he doesn’t find somewhere quiet to hide. Doyoung is, as usual, unperturbed by the noise as he examines a flier taped to a lamppost. 

“Doie,” Taeyong doesn’t mean to whine, but he does so anyway. “Can’t we just find a hotel or something? I’m tired of carrying these bags.” _And my head is killing me,_ he doesn’t say.

“I don’t think we’ll find a hotel that won’t rip us off if we offer to pay with jewels,” Doyoung says absentmindedly. “But there’s a pawn shop not too far from here, come on.”

Taeyong and Doyoung start walking down the sidewalk. Taeyong furrows into Doyoung’s space with a grimace as they pass a gaggle of teenagers, so close to crying. If he could turn into a bat right now, he would, but it wouldn’t be fair to Doyoung if he just left him to carry all their things. 

“I know,” Doyoung takes his hand and squeezes comfortingly, “we’ll find somewhere quiet for you, baby.”

Three blocks from the park is a pawn shop. Taeyong stares up at the façade, the peeling paint on the walls and the rusty gate, and thinks that he isn’t about to give his mother’s jewellery to these people. “You don’t have to, you know?” 

Taeyong looks up – he used to hate that Doyoung is taller, even if it’s just an inch or two – and sees the knowing smile on Doyoung’s face. “I mean,” Doyoung continues, “it’s not like we need to sleep, exactly. Or warmth. We can just find an abandoned house and stay there, live up to society’s expectations of vampires.”

“We aren’t haunting a house,” Taeyong says with finality.

“We wouldn’t be haunting a house,” Doyoung defends the idea, “we’d be haunting a town!”

“Doyoung, this isn’t ‘Salem’s Lot.” Taeyong slumps his shoulders, “And I don’t have that much time, either.”

Taeyong knows that Doyoung knows he’s right. The night is slowly giving way to day and it won’t be long before the first rays of sunlight show their faces and burn away Taeyong’s skin. Doyoung purses his lips and says nothing more about his vampire dreams. 

“If you need somewhere to stay,” a quiet voice speaks up from the other side of the street, “I know a place.”

Taeyong blinks. Whoever spoke is a boy, taller than either of them, a baseball hat sat neatly on his head and runes dancing around his exposed collarbones. He being a supernatural would explain why he approaches them, yet Taeyong still feels wary. Doyoung, in what can only be described as chivalry, stands in front of Taeyong, as if he were a damsel in need of protection. Taeyong sends the back of Doyoung’s head a stink look that makes the stranger smile in amusement.

“I’m Johnny,” the stranger says. “I’m a witch doctor, I can tell you two are vampires and the sun is coming up in half an hour. Plenty of time to get back to my place, before you go up in flames.”

“You could be a little more subtle,” Taeyong says. He walks around Doyoung, ignoring his warning hiss, and sticks his hand out for Johnny to shake. “I’m Taeyong. Grumpy is Doyoung. How did you know?”

“Your shirt is stained in blood,” Johnny nods towards Taeyong’s t-shirt, covered mildly by his coat. “And I can see your fangs.”

“And what makes you think we have nowhere else to go?” Doyoung defies.

“You’re standing in front of a popular pawn shop for supernaturals with bags at your feet way too close to death hour,” Johnny shrugs. “Feel free to snoop around, I got nothing to hide,” he adds, his hand waving around his head. 

Taeyong doesn’t need his permission. He’s been assaulted with human minds since they left the hotel and Johnny’s was no exception, so he knows Johnny is telling the truth. Doyoung, on the other hand, tends to block out other thoughts that aren’t his own. Taeyong sees the exact moment he lets Johnny’s mind in, the assault of words that makes him wrinkle his nose in distaste, then the careful threading through the noise until he finds Johnny’s line of thought and holds on to it for information. 

“Alright,” Doyoung says slowly, “I believe you. Where is it?”

~

The first thing Johnny does upon arriving to the apartment is shut the blinds. Doyoung explained to him briefly that he’s a day walker, but Taeyong isn’t, and Johnny was very understanding, even gave Taeyong his hat so he could cover his face in the meantime. 

“You have other people living with you, right?” Taeyong asks. 

“Yeah,” Johnny nods, shaking off his coat and hanging it on the coatrack. Taeyong and Doyoung do the same, taking notice of the numerous coats, scarfs and winter hats on the rack, as well as the shoes lined up against the wall. “Renjun and Ten are probably still sleeping and Taeil usually wakes up before six for college. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Johnny leads them to the kitchen, where a boy has his back turned to them. Taeyong can see he’s got earbuds in and they can hear he’s listening to some sort of ballad in English. Johnny approaches him, tapping his shoulder in the gentlest way possible, but the boy startles either way. “Sorry,” Johnny chuckles. “Taeil, these are Taeyong and Doyoung. They’re gonna stay with us for a while.”

Taeyong hears an exasperatedly fond thought flit across Taeil’s head about Johnny’s bleeding heart before he’s giving them a friendly smile and says, “I’m Taeil, it’s nice to meet you.”

There’s no surprise in Taeil’s mind when he sees their fangs, only offers to put Taeyong’s shirt in the washer to try and save it. While Taeyong goes to the bathroom to change into something else, Johnny fetches the other two inhabitants of the apartment and Taeil chats with Doyoung idly.

“I know you don’t need human food, but I met a vampire that likes to drink coffee,” Taeil says conversationally. Doyoung watches him totter around the kitchen, heating up a cooking pan and slamming a bag of sandwich bread on the counter. “Would you like anything, Doyoung? We’ve got coffee, tea, hot chocolate, juice,” Taeil lists off, humming in consideration. 

“Coffee would be nice,” Doyoung replies, carefully. He’s spent the past couple of minutes trying to get inside Taeil’s head, but all he gets are nice thoughts, a vague concern over a project he has to do and a fleeting reminder to himself that he has to come up with a new study plan for Renjun. 

Taeil hums in response, setting up the coffee maker and then goes back to the bread. “I got to make breakfast for everyone,” Taeil tells him, “Ten is useless in the kitchen and we all agreed it was best if Renjun didn’t try cooking without supervision anymore, not after he set fire to the stove trying to make pasta.”

“That was an accident,” a kid dressed in ratty pyjama pants and soccer t-shirt says, suddenly appearing at Doyoung’s elbow. “No one told me pasta was supposed to be cooked in a pot.”

Doyoung suppresses a smile. The kid only seems to notice him then and Doyoung tries his best to appear as least intimidating as possible. “Hi,” the kid says. “I’m Renjun.”

“I’m Doyoung,” Doyoung tips his head. Renjun gives his fangs a curious glance, but he moves on just as quickly, walking past the counter to pester Taeil. Doyoung sees for the first time that the soccer shirt is purposefully larger than his frame because he’s got small wings attached to his back. _So he’s a pixy_ , Doyoung thinks, _That explains his size._

“Taeyong and Doyoung will be staying with us,” Taeil says to Renjun just as Taeyong remerges from the bathroom, now dressed in a burgundy cotton shirt. His eyes are bright red, having just fed, but the colour is slowly giving way to his typical brown. “Like you and Ten do.”

“Cool,” Renjun nods, shoves a piece of toast into his mouth and walks out of the kitchen to plop down on the couch.

“Teenagers,” Taeil shrugs, as if to say _what are you gonna do?_ “Ten is probably gonna come out of their room any second now that his blanket is gone.”

On cue, a small ball of human limbs and glittery wings stumbles out of the bedroom on the right and goes straight for the couch, where the other pixy is watching TV. The newcomer, who can only be Ten, latches onto Renjun and would have gone right back to sleep if Johnny didn’t shove his shoulder and told him to be nice.

“Ten, come meet our new roommates,” Johnny tells him.

If Doyoung were still breathing, he would have choked on air. Ten is, unfortunately, one of the most beautiful creatures he’s seen. Why unfortunately? Because there’s a scowl set on his face and he’s glaring at them.

“Behave,” Taeil warns him from behind Doyoung. 

Ten’s scowl slowly diminishes until his expression is schooled into something a little more welcoming. “Hello,” he greets them.

Doyoung and Taeyong parrot him, introducing themselves and shaking his hand. Doyoung shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie afterwards and tries to ignore the tingling left behind by the pixy. Taeyong sends one amused thought his way before Doyoung can shut down again.

“Johnny,” Doyoung says suddenly, eager to switch his attention to something else. “We wanted to ask if you don’t mind us paying you with jewels. We have some cash but we don’t know how much that might be.”

Doyoung had a long, mindful conversation with Taeyong while they walked to the apartment and decided they didn’t want to stay there for free.

”Would this about cover it?” Taeyong asks. Taeil’s eyes nearly bulge out of his face when Taeyong presents them with a jewellery box filled with diamonds, gold bracelets and jade necklaces. 

“I think,” Taeil says slowly, “that it is more than enough. I mean, that ring could probably cover for an entire year of rent. But we aren’t taking your money.”

“But,” Taeyong stammers, taken aback. Doyoung knows Taeyong won’t be comfortable living like a freeloader. “There’s gotta be something we can do.”

“You could help around the house,” Taeil shrugs, “if you really want to do something. I could do with some help in the kitchen, if you know how to cook.”

“I do,” Taeyong confirms. “I’ll be more than happy to help.”

“And, uh,” Doyoung raises his hand, “I couldn’t help but hear that you’re home schooling Renjun. I can help with that.”

“Great!” Johnny claps his hand. “That’s settled, then.”

“See, Tae?” Doyoung says. “I told you things would be alright! You can probably even take up dancing again!”

A sharp thought filters through the cracks of Doyoung’s barriers. A soft, wistful image of a pixy dancing in front of a crowd. Doyoung’s eyes swivel to Ten, sees the faraway expression on his previously guarded face, and he sends one specific message to Taeyong: _and take Ten with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting from mobile is probably all fun agd games for a functioning phone but not for my fucked up one oh no


	4. through the days i will dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from the manic by amarante

_August, 2014_

It’s summer when Yuta and Hansol meet Jaemin. May has barely started but summer has already made its presence known, the temperature rising to uncomfortable levels and the sun shining brighter than ever. Yuta has always loved summer just for that: for the sun, how big it gets and how unavoidable it is. 

Tonight, even though the sun has gone down hours ago, the air is heavy, the humidity sticking to Yuta’s body like a stubborn leech. The streets are crowded with groups of tourists, teenagers and families going from one restaurant to another, from shop to park and park to mall. As Yuta passes a small family restaurant, it occurs to him he could bring Hansol here; they haven’t done anything other than work the last few weeks and they could use a little break. 

The copy house Hansol works at is located close to a university, and it’s always crowded when Yuta drops by to visit in the middle of the day, for no reason other than he can. It’s nothing too big, just a room spacious enough to hold three copying machines, fax machines, a line of computers for hourly rentals and a counter full of stationary on sale – Yuta’s favourite part, along with the Nescafe machine and Hansol, of course. Yuta still feels heart constrictions when he sees Hansol, even if they’ve been together for two years, known each other for five. He’s seventeen years old, for Pete’s sake, he’s too young for this. 

It doesn’t matter that Hansol looks tired as hell, that his big – sparkly, Yuta’s mind supplies – eyes are sunken or that his uniform is ugly as fuck, Yuta still thinks he’s beautiful. Even more so when Hansol sees him and he lights up immediately. Hansol’s boss is lurking, her red lipstick prettier than all the other colours Yuta has seen on her, but she turns a blind eye when Hansol nearly leaps over the counter to greet him.

They don’t kiss in public – hell, they barely even kiss in private. There’s not much of a reason behind that, Hansol just enjoys holding his hand more and Yuta enjoys seeing Hansol happy and that’s that. Hansol stops just inches shy of Yuta and breathes out, his smile blinding under the fluorescent light bulbs of the store. Yuta has to crane his neck up to look him in the eye, but he’s never cared much for that. 

“Hey,” Yuta grins. His bones are killing him from his hours at the pier, but somehow he feels better just _looking_ at him. Seriously, this is ridiculous. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Hansol goes back behind the counter momentarily to fetch his bag and then he waves goodbye to his boss, her giving a wave back over the stacks of papers she’s scanning at the back of the room. The door’s bell twinkles when they exit the store. 

Hansol takes his hand right when they’re on the street, his palm warm and his fingers a little calloused from his side-gig teaching guitar to the neighbourhood kids. They walk in silence at first, even if Yuta is itching to yap his ear off about whatever comes to his mind; he knows Hansol likes the quiet after a full day of work, and besides, it’s not like Yuta doesn’t talk to the men he works with all day, right? He can definitely wait until they get home and Hansol has at least showered and eaten something. 

They pass all the usual places on their way: the day-care that Yuta sometimes works at, when they’re in need of an extra hand; the bakery that sells delicious bread rolls at even better prices; the voodoo shop with the pretty flowers at the front, the one Hansol has to drag Yuta away from nearly every day. There’s a new pop-up shop at the corner, a cartoonish cat on the plastic roof and a bored-looking clerk playing with the products. They don’t stop for any of it, though, far too used to their surroundings to pay attention. 

They stop in front of their apartment building while Hansol fishes around his backpack for his keys – Yuta lost his two weeks ago and he hasn’t had the chance to get new ones – and in the meantime Yuta goes to the side of the building to check if any of the ads he’s put up have been taken. It’s then that Yuta sees Jaemin for the first time.

He would have missed him if he hadn’t stopped for the shortest second to move an empty water bottle from the floor to the trashcan. As Yuta bends over, he catches movement out of the corner of his eye – it was just a blur, a shadow there and suddenly gone, but his instincts urge him to take a closer look. Yuta approaches the back of the alley with careful steps and his nose notices a very distinct scent, something like chamomile that’s able to mask even the stench of trash and street. His ears perk up, as well, picking up a frantic heartbeat that speeds further up with every second that passes. It all happens in a matter of seconds; Yuta goes from suspicious to hyperaware the second he sees a pair of blood red eyes peering from the side of the dumpster. 

Yuta knows, before he’s even conscious of it, that he’s staring at a wolf. Not a werewolf but a _wolf_ , a shape-shifter, just like him and Hansol. The evidence is all there: the quickened heartbeat, the overpowering smell, the red eyes – Yuta’s wolf eyes are blue, Hansol’s golden – and, perhaps most incriminating of all, the speed at which the wolf lunges at Yuta. The boy stumbles back in shock, his reflexes fast enough to prevent him from falling on his ass; however, Yuta misses from catching his assailant by just _this_ much.

“Hansol!” Yuta shouts. He’s not sure if he’s trying to warn him of danger or if he’s asking him to prevent the stranger from leaving – years later, he’ll say it was the latter, even when he still isn’t entirely sure. 

There’s a shout and a surprised yelp, and Yuta immediately goes to stand by his side. Hansol is holding a struggling boy in his arms, the kid halfway to transforming: eyes red, claws replacing his fingers and his mouth curled in a menacing growl, hunched so far over he might as well be on four paws. Or, what would be menacing, if he didn’t look to be around ten years old and his bones weren’t as small and fragile as a bird’s. 

Hansol is trying to get the boy to simmer down, speaking in the gentlest voice that he can, but Yuta suspects the kid has spent far too much time on his own, since all he does is keep attempting to break out of his hold. Yuta notices they’re attracting attention and he’s quick to rush them both inside the building and into the elevator, the kid kicking and threatening the whole time. 

In the safety of their apartment, Yuta and Hansol set the kid down on the couch and pray to God he won’t start screaming again. He’d stopped in the elevator, his eyes gone vacant the next time Yuta looked into them.

“Hi,” Hansol tries. It’s a little late for introductions, but you can’t really blame them. “I’m Hansol. This is Yuta, my mate,” he motions towards Yuta, the younger’s heart catching in his throat because they hadn’t really discussed being mates yet, “and, uh, we’re wolves. Like you.”

The boy doesn’t offer his own name, but he doesn’t flinch back when Yuta sits down on the other end of the couch. The previous fear that had been hanging off him and clouding the air around them has dissipated and is now replaced with mere apprehension. It’s a start, at least.

“Are you hungry?” Yuta asks. The boy shakes his head vehemently at the same time his stomach gurgles loudly, selling him out. Hansol represses a smile and goes into the kitchen to whip something up for him to eat, and in the meantime, Yuta stays in the living room and tries getting anything out of the kid.

He’s not so lucky, at first. The boy’s mouth is clamped shut, only nodding or shaking his head to certain questions, but whenever Yuta tries asking about anything too personal, he doesn’t even twitch. However, after he eats Hansol’s signature tuna sandwich – signature, because everyone in the building knows him for it, and the kids he teaches love it perhaps even more than their actual lessons – he opens up just a bit more.

They finally learn his name is Na Jaemin. They ask if he has a pack, he says he had one, then doesn’t say anything more on the subject. Jaemin does tell them he’s been alone for two years, and that he will be twelve years old in a couple of weeks. So Yuta’s previous guess of him being ten was off, and if that isn’t unsettling…

Hansol offers Jaemin the bed for the night, promising they’ll stay outside in the living room and that he can lock the door if he wants. Jaemin goes to sleep after taking a shower, dressed in Yuta’s sweatpants and t-shirt because everything in Hansol’s side of the closet was far too big for him. Even Yuta’s clothes are too big for him, unsurprisingly. 

After the restless rustle of the sheets die down, Hansol and Yuta converge in the kitchen. They’d noticed the skinny wrists and the sunken cheeks, the way Jaemin barely even chewed as he ate, like he was scared they’d take the sandwich away before he could finish. Yuta wanted to give him more food when he was done, but he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea; if Jaemin doesn’t eat too often, then it’s probably better if they ease him into constant meals instead of letting him eat all he wants at once – he could get sick like that. 

“What should we do now?” Hansol asks him quietly. They’re sitting in the small dining table, the dingy chairs that are too hard under their butts so they hardly ever sit on them, the harsh light of the ceiling lamp beating down on them. The rest of the living room is shrouded in darkness, only one lamp outside the bedroom still on.

“We should get him a haircut tomorrow,” Yuta says. He’s thinking about the places he thinks they could take Jaemin, places where they won’t be asked too many questions. “And some new clothes, probably.”

Hansol doesn’t answer right away. Yuta looks up at him from where he’d been staring at his nails and finds Hansol is smiling widely. “What?”

“I’m just,” Hansol shrugs, “really fucking glad we’re on the same page.”

Yuta blinks in surprise, but realization dawns on him pretty quickly. “What, you thought I’d say we should kick him out?” he hisses, not wanting to wake Jaemin up. The apartment is small, after all, and it wouldn’t be too surprising if they did. 

“I can’t read your mind, Yuta,” Hansol says gently, “and this is a lot of responsibility. I knew I wanted to keep him but I didn’t know what you wanted.”

“I guess that’s reasonable,” Yuta mumbles. He hates it when Hansol is right – which is pretty much all the time. “So, we’re taking him to get a haircut?”

“And new clothes,” Hansol nods. “Come on, let’s get to bed, it’s late and we’ve been up since four am.”

“You don’t have to get up so early,” Yuta reminds him grumpily. “I’m the one with the early shift.”

“As if I’m letting you walk out of this apartment without breakfast and a good luck kiss,” Hansol teases. Yuta shoves his face away when the taller boy tries swooping in to steal a kiss and hides the fluster in his heart with a well-placed scowl.

~

The next morning, Yuta wakes up to brown eyes peering down at him. Typically, he’d assume it’s just Hansol, but he has enough self-awareness to know Hansol is still asleep, his arm heavy and comforting slung over Yuta’s waist. They slept in the pull out mattress that came with the couch, and it was a little stiff, but Yuta has slept in far worse conditions so he barely registered any of it as he settled down and slept.

“Good morning,” Yuta says. His voice is slow and drowsy from sleep. 

“You stayed out of the room all night,” Jaemin says in lieu of a greeting. 

“We did.” Yuta isn’t sure where Jaemin is going with this. His mind is hazy and he’s tempted to go back to sleep, especially with Hansol still warm and soft behind him. “Was that okay?”  
“Yes,” Jaemin nods. His shirt hangs below his collarbones. “I also heard you last night.”

Yuta sits up. Hansol snores, grunts and rolls over, dead to the world. Yuta rolls his eyes fondly and directs his full attention to Jaemin. He wonders if it would be okay to scoot over and offer Jaemin to sit with him, but something tells him Jaemin would decline.

“What did you hear?” Yuta asks carefully. 

Jaemin fiddles with a loose strand on the t-shirt. He’s nervous, Yuta realizes, although he’s not sure what for; maybe he misheard them? “You said something about keeping me?” Jaemin sounds hesitant, worried, scared.

“Yeah, if you want,” Yuta licks his lips, “Hansol and I would like to keep you around. We talked about taking you to get a haircut today and buy you some new clothes.”

“I don’t have any money,” Jaemin shook his head right off the bat.

“It’s on us.”

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Well, would you like to be our pack, then?” Yuta offers.

Jaemin stays silent. Yuta waits patiently, fighting the sleep out of his eyes while Jaemin fidgets and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “You smell like fish,” is all Jaemin says.

That’s enough answer for Yuta.

~

The next two years go by in a blur. That first morning, they take Jaemin to a kiddies’ hair salon and then shop for clothes his size, but as the months go by and his frame grows sturdier, with the help of a steady diet and the constant walking they do from one place to another, they need to buy more items – not that they mind. They’re proud of Jaemin for growing.

At the beginning, he sleeps in the bedroom while Hansol and Yuta take up the pull out mattress. They don’t want to scare him, don’t want him to feel uncomfortable, and Yuta is perfectly happy with letting him stay there forever. So, they’re surprised when he approaches them shyly one night, almost two months since they met, and asks if they would rather sleep on the bed instead. A competition of manners arises, everyone trying to hand over their bed privileges for the sake of the others, and it’s only over when they reach the agreement to just sleep on the bed tonight and then find a better solution in the morning.

It’s nice, Yuta thinks. Jaemin sleeps between them – Yuta assumed he’d want to sleep on the edge of the bed, an easier escape if he felt trapped, but he climbed in after Hansol and left Yuta with that exact space Yuta thought Jaemin would occupy – and even though they avoid crowding into him too much, Yuta sleeps soundly. They end up buying a twin sized mattress and placing it in their bedroom. It’s a tight fit, the room probably not big enough for two beds; they still make it work.

Living arrangements aside, a lot happens. It doesn’t happen at once; it’s more of a bread crumb path, but Jaemin opens up to them and tells them what happened to him. From what they can gather, he used to be in a pack, with a leader that didn’t care much about his pack and more about power; Jaemin’s mom was one of the pack’s omegas, and she wasn’t sure who Jaemin’s dad is. Jaemin was the pack’s runt, smaller than his peers and not as strong, and he didn’t have much in the sense of rights, eating whatever was left from the hunts and sleeping in corners he could squeeze in. Running away was his idea, his decision, and he took the first chance presented to him: Jaemin took off in the middle of the night, while most of the other wolves were hunting and those left were distracted.

Jaemin becomes more comfortable with being touched and touching in return. He stops running away when Yuta tries to put a hand on his shoulder, doesn’t flinch back anymore when either of them moves too quickly, and he even begins to initiate the physical contact. He no longer awakens to the smallest of sounds, sleeping deeply with the covers held tightly in his fists. 

Hansol teaches him how to read and write a few weeks after he starts living with them. He already doubled his tutoring hours and is taking extra shifts at the store, yet he spends more time at the apartment than Yuta does, sitting on the kitchen table with Jaemin and pouring over calligraphy textbooks and looking up study plans for home-schooled kids. Yuta is working double as well, taking the shifts other men at the pier can’t, using his own supernatural stamina and strength to push through hours after hours of reeling in boats, carrying crates from one side to another and gutting fish. It’s not the most glamorous work, sure, but it pays the bills and it’s something Yuta can do.

~

It’s Jaemin’s fourteenth birthday. They take him to the beach in the morning, eating homemade sandwiches and playing at the edge of the water because Jaemin is too afraid of swimming – Yuta wanted to teach him, swimming is natural for canines and they _are_ canines, but Jaemin refused and Yuta didn’t push. Hansol almost steps on a washed out jellyfish and Yuta trips over a collection of rocks, at the same time, and it makes Jaemin laugh so hard the waves crash against him and he fails to keep his balance, and ultimately falls over. He comes back up, sputtering water and drenched from head to toe, but he’s smiling so hard his eyes are turned into crescents.

When they sun is starting to go down, they pack up their things and make the trek to the mall. It doesn’t matter that they’re sandy and wet, that their hairs are a tangled mess and that they’re dropping sand with every step, because Jaemin is radiating happiness and giddiness and all that good stuff and that’s everything Yuta wants for him. 

There’s a bakery near one of the side entrances of the mall. It’s not too big, not too small, and it sells more pastries than bread, more iced tea than coffee, the crème always thick and the desserts all have fruit in or on them. It was one of the first places Yuta visited with Hansol when they started dating and it’s easily one of his favourites, as well. They aren’t on first name basis with anyone in the staff, and the owner is hardly around, but they’re easily recognised by the cashier. She waves cheerfully at them and takes their order with an amiable grin, handing over the recipe for them to claim their treats at the counter.

Hansol produces two candles from the secret pocket in his backpack, one he’d sewn in himself. Jaemin follows the movement of his hands with a shocked expression on his face; almost like he didn’t know candles on birthdays are a thing. The last two birthdays of his life had been significantly better than the others, spent with people who genuinely care about him, but they hadn’t used candles then. 

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’d be embarrassed if we sang happy birthday right here,” Yuta teases. 

He’s surprised to see Jaemin shake his head furiously; if Yuta isn’t mistaken, he’s tearing up slightly. Yuta pretends he didn’t see that and only pulls out his lighter from his jean pocket, lighting up the candles and singing _happy birthday_ along with Hansol in a high pitched tone. Jaemin doesn’t smile, his eyes misty and wide, but Yuta knows he’s happy, he can see it and smell it and feel it. 

After eating their cake, they go to a department store with three floors full of merchandise and split up nearly immediately, without meaning to. Yuta wanders aimlessly for some ten or twenty minutes, wondering if Jaemin would like this or that better. The store has plenty to pick from, it’s just that Yuta can be a little indecisive.

It’s on his third lap around the stuffed animals section that Yuta spots Jaemin again. He’s about to approach him when he notices Jaemin is talking to another boy his age. Yuta is thankful he has super hearing and can easily spy on them.

“I like your wings,” Yuta hears Jaemin says. The older wolf ducks behind a rack of Care Bears and watches the other boy: he’s slight, reaches around Jaemin’s shoulders, his hair well-trimmed and his expression is pure surprise at Jaemin’s words. Jaemin, on the other hand, looks and sounds painfully shy. “They’re very pretty.”

The other boy stares up at Jaemin for some long seconds and then puts Jaemin in a headlock. Yuta stifles a laugh behind his hands, amused both at the boy’s reaction and at Jaemin’s own face. The boy is scolding Jaemin that he can’t just say things like that in public and lets him go, huffing and smoothing down his shirt. Truth be told, they are very pretty wings, in Yuta’s opinion. 

Everything happens at once. Hansol returns from his trip to the personal hygiene aisle at the same time another winged being joins the boy and strikes up a conversation with Jaemin. The young wolf, smarter than he lets on, spots Yuta and Hansol and waves them over as well. Introductions are made, hands are shaken, the winged boy is Renjun and his companion is Ten. Ten, noticing that Renjun and Jaemin are getting along in spite of the physical aggressiveness, invites the wolves to visit his house the next week for a _play date._

At said play date, they meet the others. Hansol gets along with Ten and Taeil right away, talking with the eldest about study plans and home-schooling while Ten offers him advice on dealing with a supernatural teenager and his mood swings. 

“You got a wolf, that’s even more temperamental,” Ten said with a shudder one evening.

Yuta hits it off with Taeyong, Doyoung and Johnny, since the three are all easy to talk to and share many hobbies. Taeyong is sweet, kind of shy at first, but he opens up to Yuta after a few days and some conversations on dance and music and they even develop an easy-going friendship of push and pull, where Yuta pushes all of his buttons until Taeyong snaps and threatens to bind him with silver chains. Doyoung is snarky and not very trusting of strangers, mostly out of protectiveness over his family, until he sees how much Yuta and Hansol love Jaemin and decides they can't be too harmful. And Johnny, who definitely trusts too much, too fast, and has too big of a heart for his own good – Taeil says he’s got a bleeding heart– makes the three of them feel welcome no matter what.

It’s not a difficult decision to make when they’re offered a place in their home. Doyoung explains to them that the house was bought very recently, and that there’s still a lot to do before it’s perfect, but they have plenty of space for them and it would be wonderful to have them. Jaemin only has to pout at them with fluttering eyelashes for Hansol to crumble and Yuta isn’t too far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and longer and longer


	5. chest full of diamonds and gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from control by halsey

_November 13th, 2015_

Kun’s life is a constant routine. Every morning, he wakes up at 4am, showers, dresses in simple sweatpants and a t-shirt and meanders into the kitchen, has breakfast ready on the table before the clock can reach another hour. In the time it takes Sicheng to get out of bed and function like a regular, living creature, Kun drinks his coffee and watches the morning news on the TV they have set up in the living room adjacent to the kitchen. Then, as Sicheng finally crawls out of their shared bedroom and makes a beeline for the breakfast Kun has for him, Kun goes into the room and changes into his work attire – jeans he doesn’t mind dirtying and a dress shirt in case he needs to work with customers for whatever reason.

Since Sicheng can be a little grumpy in the morning, they don’t generally talk much, and instead, Kun busies himself watering the plants on their windowsills and chatting with the naiad that resides in the water pond not too far out of their backyard. They are the only ones close enough for her to visit, and she and Kun have made great friends in the long time he’s been living in the cottage with Sicheng. She’s a little shy around Sicheng and Kun suspects it has something to do with Sicheng’s face being set in a frown every morning, which is when she typically visits.

When the clock reads 5.35am, Kun leaves for work. Sicheng doesn’t have to punch in until 7am and he stays behind to shower and dress in his clothes with a final reminder from Kun to take the bento box he made for him with lunch and to bring his water bottle. The walk from their cottage to his workplace is short, even if Kun makes a detour, so he goes for the scenic route instead of sticking to the paved paths. The park nearby is closed for the winter, yet that doesn’t stop him from cutting through it, whistling to himself the entire time. He knows some, if not most of the trees and flowers in the park are home to dryads, but he only knows a handful of them personally.

Kun finally arrives to his job after ten minutes. It always surprises him how close they are to the city; their cottage is nestled in a protected woodland area, hidden from the human eye with charms, and it often feels like he and Sicheng are the only people in the whole world, so it’s easy to forget that there’s only a short walk and a park to separate them from the rest of society. Especially at night, when the two sit outside their front door and watch the stars, when it truly feels like they’re in a different universe.

He never thought he’d be a fan of baking, but it’s surprisingly soothing. He was quick to learn how to preheat the industrial oven and knead the bread, how to decorate the pastries and make the crème. Kun is in charge of opening the front door for the first customers, but given how he’s arrived fifteen minutes earlier than their usual opening hour; he busies himself with wiping down the counters and rearranging the tables inside the establishment. Afterwards, Kun goes to the kitchen and smiles at Woojin, the early morning baker, as he sets the freshly baked rolls of bread on platters and brings them out to the front. A few minutes later, their other co-workers begin to trickle in: Juyeon and Younghoon come in at the same time, the latter going towards the check-out counter and the former headed for the pastries section. Yugyeom bursts through the employees’ doors just in time for opening hour, sending a sheepish grin to Woojin as he slinks to his spot by the coffee machine.

“I’m opening the doors now,” Kun’s voice rings out easily through the space. The shop isn’t too big, after all. Juyeon sends a thumb up, already logging in to their system and readying the register. Woojin shouts an affirmative from the kitchen and Kun can smell the various things he’s working on, the baguettes and chocolate lava cakes and apple pies and Kun’s mouth waters. There’s certainly a downside to this job and it’s the temptation that comes with working in the kitchen.

As usual, the first customer is Mr. Cho. He’s an old man from the neighbourhood, lives twenty feet away from the bakery and is a big fan of their black coffee and croissants. Kun holds the door open for him with a friendly smile and walks him to the breakfast’s display case, where Juyeon is quick to slide over and pick out the tastiest looking croissant for him. Yugyeom is already working on the coffee, hissing when he accidentally burns the side of his hand on the steam.

Kun disappears in the kitchen for the next few hours. He takes a break close to noon, when Nayeon comes into work and takes over for him. She’s technically the third kitchen worker, but she does a little bit of everything in the shop, helping out wherever she’s needed; sometimes they need her to work the register or mix the batter or serve the milkshakes. It really depends on who is working that day and the amount of clients they get.

Sicheng texts him sporadically throughout the day about mundane things that happen to him – the cat that waltzes into the office at lunch break, the shenanigans that the interns get up to, random pictures of his boss Henry with said stray cat. Sicheng’s office is certainly on the more casual side of things, with a lax dress code and flexible working hours, and so Sicheng can pick up his phone whenever he’s not busy and bother Kun, while Kun must keep his own phone in vibrate and in his locker unless he’s on break.

Today, there’s an ominous looking text waiting for him at the bottom of their chat; Sicheng asking to talk when they get home. They always talk when they’re home and Kun is truly befuddled for several minutes, trying to figure out if Sicheng is being serious because it’s something _serious_ or if he’s just messing with him. Sicheng does have a strange sense of humour, after all, and it wouldn’t be the first time he does something to play with Kun’s mind.

~

He was serious. He _is_ serious. Kun can tell the second he enters their cottage and finds Sicheng waiting for him in the living room slash dining room slash entrance hall – it’s a small cottage. Sicheng doesn’t appear outwardly nervous or scared but there’s certainly something going on, Kun can tell.

“You’re home early,” Kun says conversationally. The kettle whistles from the stove and Kun goes to turn it off before Sicheng can get up, on autopilot. He’s used to being the one manning the kitchen at home. “Did something happen at work? You sounded pretty… weird in that message.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Sicheng shrugs. He sounds like he wants to reassure Kun but isn’t so sure himself. “Or, at least, I don’t think it is. I think it’s good! Honestly. I’ve told you about Ten. And Yuta, Taeyong, Hansol.”

“Your dance buddies,” Kun nods. He places the teacups on their coffee table and the teabags next to them, returning to the kitchen to retrieve the honey, milk and sugar.

Sicheng’s been attending dance classes the last few months. Before they left their homes, when they were still under the care of their parents and lived in the mountains surrounding China, they would often sneak out and go to a human village close by, where they would watch the festivals that decorated the streets every so often. Sicheng was always fascinated by the dancing, the graceful movements of the humans, and he confided in Kun that he would like to learn to move like that, as well. And ever since they’ve been independent, Sicheng has directed a small portion of his treasure to dance lessons, attending dance workshops and currently an academy in the heart of Seoul. There, he met a few other supernatural boys their age, befriended them – especially Ten, not that Kun was being nosy or anything – and would sometimes talk about them to Kun over dinner or during those late nights when neither could sleep very well.

“Yeah, my dance buddies,” Sicheng smiles. “I’ve told you they’re supernaturals, too? Ten’s a pixy and Taeyong’s a vampire and Hansol and Yuta are shape-shifters, wolves.”

Kun nods, hides an amused smile at Sicheng’s rambling and lets him talk all he wants before he finally reaches the topic he’s going for. “Anyway, they’ve mentioned before that they live together with other supernaturals and I’ve told them about you, as well, about our home and that we’re… alone here. And today, Ten offered us a place with them.”

“Do you think we’re alone?” Kun asks carefully. “Is this… not enough for you? To be us?”

“That’s not –" Sicheng splutters, “—that’s not what I’m saying, I swear. Kun, you know how much you mean to me, I _hope_ you know how much you mean to me. And I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life just the two of us. This is just something I wanted to bring up, an idea.”

Kun sips his tea. He didn’t mean to sound quite so pitiful but just thinking that Sicheng was unhappy is enough to bring tears to his eyes. Sicheng means the world to him and Kun hates to think he’s the reason he isn’t one hundred per cent happy. “Alright. Tell me about it.”

“The house is big. Most of the people only stay there as a sort of halfway home before moving on to somewhere else, but Ten and the other guys live there permanently. And you know that dragons aren’t as lonely as everyone thinks we are. We need other people or we’ll go crazy. So, the proposal is that we move in to live with them. I mean, the house was pretty destroyed when they bought it and they’re still fixing some areas but it’s looking good.”

“You’ve been there?” Kun frowns, interrupting Sicheng’s nervous chatter. “When?”

“Last week,” Sicheng admits in a murmur. “Ten invited me to meet the other guys. I think you’d like them! Johnny and Taeil seemed excited to meet you and they have kids there, one of them is Chinese and –"

Sicheng goes on to ramble once more. He does that when he’s scared, the words flowing out of him quick fire and leaving him breathless. Kun only half-listens to him this time, his mind swirling with thoughts too numerous and too fast for him to properly keep up with. As much as Sicheng is trying to comfort him, Kun still feels like he’s failed a test he didn’t know he was taking; he’s been so happy living with Sicheng here, their lives harmonious and so simple, he’d assumed Sicheng was happy as well. But if the younger dragon is suggesting they move out, somewhere else with strangers, doesn’t that mean he isn’t as satisfied as Kun thought? Is Kun a bad partner? A bad friend?

Has he been neglecting Sicheng? The boy hasn’t shown any signs of discomfort that Kun has seen, other than the typical grouchiness in the mornings. Maybe Kun has been too self-absorbed in his own life to notice his friend’s sufferings.

“Kun, are you listening to me?”

Kun’s head snaps up towards the sound of his voice. Sicheng is staring at him with furrowed eyebrows and his head is tilted sideways in clear worry for him. “I’m okay,” Kun nods, “I’m listening, yeah. Sorry. I’m gonna need to think about this, though. Just, give me a couple of days before I can answer.”

“I wouldn’t have expected any less,” Sicheng grins. He seems hopeful and excited, Kun thinks. It’s nice. “How was work today?”

~

Kun thinks about the proposal for a week.

And he hates to admit it, but it doesn’t sound half bad. The house, from what Sicheng has described, is in need of some help still, but it’s big enough to fit a handful of dozens and is right at the entrance of an enchanted woodland area where supernaturals as them can roam free when they need it. They already have that kind of freedom, however, right here at the cottage, so Kun knows that’s not what Sicheng is after.

Sicheng wants to live there for the company. Kun isn’t blind, he knows Sicheng adores him, and Kun feels the same way about him, but he clearly isn’t enough. Sicheng really likes that Ten guy a lot, Kun can tell from the way Sicheng talks about him all the time - if Sicheng wants to have a new boyfriend, he could just say so, there’s no need to scare Kun like this.

Or, at least that’s what he thinks at first. It becomes clear after a day or two that it isn’t just about Ten or the freedom what Sicheng is after, even if they do play a big part of it, but rather it’s also about not being isolated anymore. Dragons are big and their treasures are often times bigger, hence why they live far from civilisation; it’s easier to stay hidden than to risk scaring the humans or have their lot stolen. Most dragons grow to like or even love the loneliness, but Sicheng isn’t like that – he’s warm and affectionate and gets touch starved if Kun doesn’t hug him every morning and every night or holds his hand while they shop for groceries on Sundays.

It isn’t an easy process for Kun, to understand and accept that he can’t fulfil all of Sicheng’s needs and wants on his own. He’s not sure he’ll ever be comfortable with the idea of sharing Sicheng. But he wants to try.

~

The cottage stays as it is and where it is. It only exists as a dragon’s lair, a figment of their imagination and will, and as long as they believe in it, it will be real. Everything inside of it fades from view as Kun packs up their physical possessions, however, as if the lair understands they won’t be using it in a long time and there is no more need for any of it.

Kun agrees to try. He isn’t exactly excited about it but he promised Sicheng he’d give this a shot and he isn’t one to back down from a promise. The lair isn’t going anywhere, after all, there’s nothing to lose.

The first few days in the house are strange. Kun, as they arrive, is volunteered by Sicheng to help with the gardens, and he’s spent hours upon hours out in the sun with Ten. Ten is the pixy, the boy Sicheng is infatuated with, and Kun didn’t want to like him. He didn’t want to like any of them, in fact. It was easy to pretend he didn’t if he only avoided talking to them and only did what he had to, like water the plants and sweep the foyer, spending the rest of his time locked up somewhere, either in their assigned bedroom working on his online courses or in the library helping Yeri rearrange the bookshelves.

It works for a short while. Kun only really mingles with the others during dinner and it isn’t hard to blend into the background when there are so many people sitting around the dining table; there is Hyunjin, a vampire from Doyoung’s and Taeyong’s old clan, and his sired Felix, both of them so painfully young and alone in the world, but they still wear bright smiles and laugh along with the others all the time; there’s also Joohyun and her friends, five dryads passing by while Johnny helps them protect their plants in a way they can settle down in a forest and not risk being torn down by humans. There are a few other people as well, but Kun doesn’t know them, shape-shifters, seers, and a handful of demigods that are only staying for the night. Kun gets along with Yeri and Sooyoung, two of the dryads, and Taeil isn’t exactly deterred by Kun’s silence whenever the older boy decides to blabber his ear off, but otherwise Kun keeps to himself.

His plans crumble to the ground, however, after Sicheng sees what he’s doing and sends the kids his way.

Renjun and Jaemin are the only kids in the house who live here permanently. They’re fifteen years old, three years younger than Felix and five younger than Hyunjin, although they spend a lot of time hanging out together. Renjun is another pixy, like Ten, and he’s Chinese like Kun and Sicheng; he’s short for his age and persistent when he wants something. Jaemin is a shape-shifter, a wolf, taller than Renjun and one of the sweetest kids Kun has met. They talk Kun into cooking for them before they leave for school in the mornings and swamp him with stories after they’re back in the afternoon, climbing all over him on the couch and out on the deck even though they’re all bones and sharp edges, and they cuddle with him at night when Sicheng abandons him. Since they both had difficulties learning as kids and are barely catching up to their classmates, they review their classes with Kun and he quizzes them on the topics, handing out candy to the correct answers.

Kun is fond of them in a day and completely in love by the end of the week and he realizes that he’d miss them terribly if he were to leave.

Damn you, Sicheng.

~

If the kids are the ones to convince Kun that staying perhaps wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, then it’s the adults who convince him that leaving would be the worst thing in the world.

The first one to sneak into his heart is Taeil, with his gentle encouragement and endless chatter; then, it’s Hansol, his quiet demeanour and patient smiles; Doyoung’s wittiness and kindness; Taeyong’s caring nature and joyfulness; Johnny’s friendliness to everyone he meets, regardless of who they are; Yuta’s sharp tongue and beautiful smile; even Ten, with his charisma and sometimes overbearing affection, somehow manages to turn Kun into a puddle.

~

Kun begins to notice the strange dynamics among the permanent residents of the house after a three week period.

As far as he’s aware, Taeil and Johnny are _together_ together, as are Hansol and Yuta; the two wolves performed the mating rituals that same year, after Yuta turned of age, and there are two barely visible marks hidden under the collar of their shirts. Kun hears from Taeyong that Ten was with them when it happened, and that it’s a much bigger deal than it sounds like. Kun isn’t too familiar with wolves, shape-shifters or not, and he doesn’t know what it entails – not just the mating ritual, but the fact that Ten was present during it – but he can tell that it’s probably important, if the way Taeyong says it is anything to go by.

Taeil and Johnny are more low-key about their relationship. Where Hansol and Yuta are all over each other now – Doyoung loudly mourns the days they would barely kiss each other –, Taeil’s affection towards Johnny is quiet, and vice versa. Kun can see their love for each other in their eyes, anyone with the tiniest bit of awareness can, and in the simple things they do, such as Taeil going out of town with Johnny in their beat up truck whenever the witch doctor needs new herbs or Johnny staying up until the wee hours with Taeil as the boy studies for his university.

Everyone else is a mystery, however.

There’s Taeyong, who flits around the house with a sweet smile and wide eyes. Kun has seen him sitting half on Yuta’s lap too many times to count, but he’s also seen him cuddled up to Johnny in the mornings and his lips attached to Taeil’s neck.

Doyoung, for the entire act he puts forth, melts whenever Ten burrows under his arm or Taeyong swings their hands back and forth while they stroll through the gardens. He also bickers with Yuta a lot, yet Kun has seen them getting cosy late at night when everyone else has gone to bed.

Hansol typically keeps to himself, but is significantly more generous with his affections when it comes to the permanent residents. He cooks in the kitchen with Kun, sometimes, and Kun is guilty of his heart fluttering when the older boy smiles at him for too long or his gaze lingers on him for longer than is considered platonic.

Yuta launches himself at everyone with a wide smile and a laugh tumbling out of his lips, wraps all his limbs around their bodies and clings until they both fall over. He does so to Kun once, while Kun tended to a bush of roses that seemed too down for it to be good, and Kun fell flat on his ass the second the wolf put all his body weight on him. Kun hates how warm it feels to have Yuta’s face pressed into his neck.

Johnny is another affectionate ball of sunshine. Sometimes, he’ll sneak up behind Kun and talk to him with his mouth too close to his ear and Kun will have to physically hold back from leaning into him, reminding himself that Johnny isn’t his.

Taeil isn’t as physical, but he’s emotional. He’s the glue holding the house together, the rock everyone leans against, the sweet smile that lifts their spirits after a long day. Kun grows closest to him in the shortest amount of time; he’s used to being the emotional support to others and it’s nice to have someone to rely on, as well. And Taeil takes on Kun’s silent offer to do the same.

Then, there’s Ten. He’s loud and unapologetic, knows no shame, and will not hesitate to smother anyone in hugs and kisses, no matter how much the other person squirms and tries to get away. Sicheng preens under his attention, as he does whenever anyone else traps him in their arms as well, and it’s cute, sure. For Kun, it’s a little like torture; Ten is definitely going after him, Kun isn’t _blind_ , and it’s as flattering as disconcerting. Sometimes, they’ll be out in the gardens, elbows deep in soil and dirt and with leaves stuck to their shirts, the sweat beads rolling down their temples, but Ten will still swing an arm over his shoulders and get dangerously close to his face, a stupid little grin on his face as he leans in and teases him. Ten always backs up before their lips touch, however, and Kun can’t figure out if he’s disappointed or not.

~

Sicheng is over the moon when Kun tells him he wants to stay permanently. The younger dragon all but throws himself to him, plants a sloppy kiss to his cheek and whispers over and over how grateful he is and how much he loves him. It serves as a reminder for Kun that he’s doing the right thing here.

It’s also really nice when they tell the others and everyone seems ecstatic. Yuta, Taeil and Sicheng have their little celebration in a corner while Doyoung and Johnny shake Kun side to side. Ten and Hansol stay put on the couch, the pixy’s leg thrown over Hansol’s lap, but the smiles on their faces say everything there needs to be said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... hi  
> ok i know there are a lot of messages on my inbox that i haven't replied to and I'M SORRY but im learning two new languages and im class rep so my time is being thouroughly consumed by college but i promise that as soon as I can ill reply to you


	6. mistook beaches for nirvana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me again. if you don't read my zombie au, then you don't know but i've ben crazy busy with uni, learning two new languages for your major isn' the easy path and i'm currently swimming in french pronunciation and german nouns so uh. i'm kinda dead.
> 
> chapter title from "full circle" by half moon run

_August 27th, 2018_

Mark runs away at age 13.

It’s not because the orphanage is bad: it’s as good as any other place could be, if Mark is being realistic. It lacks the warmth of a home and of his mother, sure, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been good enough for him in the past. He eats three meals a day and receives medical care when he needs it, goes to a good school with the other kids and is free to take music classes at the community centre over the weekends. The older kids are allowed to have jobs and sometimes the nuns will take them to the beach or the mall. They all get cake on their birthdays and no one has ever laid a hand on him.

He runs away because he feels suffocated, empty and tearing at the seams. He feels suffocated in the overly crowded halls of the building, often times bumping into others while he tries to navigate the maze of floors and rooms, knocking elbows in the bathroom and stuffed together at a dining table that definitely wasn’t built to hold so many people. He feels empty as he watches other kids be adopted while he’s left behind, stuck in a shared room and in a bunk bed that’s beginning to feel springy and with a blanket that’s at least five years older than he is. He feels like he’s tearing at the seams as he tries to be an older brother to the other kids, a responsible role model that he knows they desperately need – he knows this because he needs one, too. Oh, how he craves for someone to hold his hand and guide him through life, for someone to be there just for him.

Mark runs away on a Monday. It is a disgustingly mundane Monday: he goes to class, aces the math exam he studied for all weekend and eats the bland food offered by the cafeteria, sat next to Changbin and talking quietly about the music playing over the speakers. He plays soccer with his classmates during recess and receives praise from their English professor in class, as if Mark didn’t spend the first few years of his life speaking only English to his mom. Mark goes back to the orphanage on the bus and does his homework on the dining table, helps Ryujin with her History essay and does the dishes after dinner.

His belongings are right where they always are, packed away tightly in his suitcase and shoved under his bunk bed. Mark waits for the nuns to do their 10pm round around the rooms before creaking open one of the window in the room. They’re on a second floor, high enough that he knows it’ll hurt even if just a little when he jumps but not too high that he should fear any kind of injury. Bruised skin, maybe, but nothing even close to a sprain or a fracture. Mark throws his suitcase out first, watches it land on the soft grass below with a dull thug. His heart pounds with something akin to excitement and dread as he straddles the windowsill, one leg swinging in the air and the other firmly planted on the floor. A kid wakes up: his name is Kijoon; he’s twelve, Mark’s friend. They played hide and seek as kids, are usually on the same team for game night on Saturdays. Kijoon doesn’t speak when they lock eyes. He doesn’t even move from his bunk, only twirls his fingers in a goodbye and twists to turn his back to Mark. That’s as much of a blessing that Mark will be getting from anyone in this room and more than he was expecting, anyway.

The grass tickles his cheek. Mark miscalculated the jump and crashed into the oak tree by the side of the orphanage, bringing down branches and leaves with him. Mark lies frozen on the ground, waiting anxiously for one of the nuns – or worse, _Father Kim_ – to come outside, to see him through the windows, for one of the kids to be a tattle tale and go running for an adult. But nothing happens.

Above him, the window he just fell through slams shut and seconds later, the light is turned on inside the room. Mark hears a female voice ask for him, followed by Giwook’s sleepy voice telling her that Mark’s gone to the bathroom, he wasn’t feeling very well. The light is off once more and everything in the house goes back to silence.

Mark feels a burst of gratefulness and fondness for his roommates. He tucks it into his heart and keeps it there when he gets up, takes his suitcase and runs into the night.

~

Seoul is a strange place, Mark decides. It’s too vibrant in some places, with neon signs and flashing lights and streets that bustle with energy, pumping bass that resonates in Mark’s ribcage every time he walks by an open club. Girls wearing too much lipstick and boys with shaved heads all walk past him as if Mark were a ghost. He appreciates it, though; he’s lived the past decade under the scrutiny of every adult in his life and flying under the radar is a breath of fresh air.

But other places are too quiet, too grey and black. Mark rushes past the alleys and dark corners, burrows into his shirt and avoids eye contact with the burly men he encounters, prays to God he could turn invisible sometimes. His suitcase is light in his hands – he doesn’t own much, anyway, not really - but even then it begins to weigh him down after countless of blocks and Mark wishes he can find somewhere to rest soon.

Someone up there listens to him.

Mark brushes past a stranger and hears a gasp. It sounds scared and surprised and it makes Mark stop in his tracks to look back at the other person. He’s a boy, not more than a handful of years older than Mark, black hair falling messily over his eyes and his cheekbones too sharp under the fluorescent lights of the laundry mat they’re standing in front of.

“Who’s there?” the boy stutters. His voice cracks and breaks all over the place and it reminds Mark of one of the kids at the orphanage, Jiwon, the way he stumbles through puberty with little grace and finesse.

Mark frowns at the question. He thinks that maybe the boy is blind, but Mark met a blind girl before, and while she typically wore sunglasses, he’d seen her without them, the way her eyes flitted over everything around her because she wasn’t even conscious of doing it. This boy, however, isn’t doing that: he’s looking at many things, focusing on the dirty asphalt and the garbage can about to overflow, but never on Mark.

As if, Mark isn’t even there at all.

“You can’t see me?” The words flow out of Mark’s mouth unbidden. He sounds pitiful, scared, and alone.

The boy just about jumps ten feet in the air. “Holy shit,” the boy whispers. “I’m losing it. I knew incense fumes would get to me one of these days but I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“Actually, I might be the one going crazy,” Mark says.

“Wait, is someone really there?” the boy outstretches his arms and starts swinging loudly. His hand hits Mark flat on the chest and while Mark rubs the area with an offended burrow of his brows, the boy gasps in bewilderment and giggles hysterically. “Are you a ghost or something? Dude, you should be more careful about these things if you are, you can’t have humans finding out about us.”

“What are you talking about?” Mark asks, increasingly frantic as the reality sinks in: he’s _invisible_. “I’m not a ghost.”

Something that looks like understanding flashes across the boy’s face. “Okay, I think I know what’s happening. Here, take my hand for a second,” he extends his hand, more carefully than before, and waits. Mark hesitates momentarily before taking the offered hand. Except he can’t see his own hand. In fact, he can’t see anything of himself or his suitcase.

Mark stifles a panicked cry. The boy senses his fear and hushes him, promises that he’ll help; he just needs to touch Mark’s skin. Through the tears that fog his eyesight, Mark takes in the honest expression on his face and decides he’ll trust him.

There’s a tingling sensation that spreads across Mark’s limb and slowly, his body begins to show again. The boy in front of him grins in satisfaction and says, “There, you’re visible again. Unfortunately, I don’t know how to keep you this way without touching you so we’re gonna have to keep holding hands for a little while. Is that okay with you?”

Mark shakes his head. The boy smiles again and says, “I’m Jaehyun, what’s your name?”

“Mark,” he sniffs. He doesn’t have a last name, none of the orphans do. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Hey, us witches gotta stick together, right?” Jaehyun wiggles his eyebrows. “Besides, this beats going home to an empty apartment and binge watching old reruns, don’t you think?”

Mark doesn’t pay attention to the second half of Jaehyun’s statement. His mind zeroes in on one word and one word alone and fixates on it like it’s the only thing he knows. “What did you call me?” he asks meekly.

Jaehyun falters in the middle of a sentence and seems to bite his own tongue. “I freaked you out, didn’t I? Look, that’s a conversation best had somewhere more private, so why don’t we put a pin on that? Tell me about you! How old are you?”

“Thirteen,” Mark grumbles. He doesn’t want to wait until who knows when to understand what Jaehyun seems to be talking about, but he doesn’t appear to have much choice. “You?”

“Oh, I’m fifteen!” Jaehyun sounds genuinely pleased to be close to Mark’s age. “That means I’m your hyung,” he teases. “I noticed you have a suitcase with you, where were you headed?”

“Anywhere.”

Jaehyun hums. “Yeah, I feel you. I ran away years ago, I was actually younger than you, so I know how it feels. I get that you don’t know what you’re doing but just be careful, yeah?”

“I do know what I’m doing,” Mark defends himself.

“No, you don’t,” Jaehyun sighs. Mark drops the subject.

They walk a couple of more blocks until they reach an apartment building. It’s frayed at the edges but held together by sheer will, just like Mark. He immediately feels at home. Jaehyun leads him to an apartment on the third floor and lets him in with a dimpled smile, their hands still locked together. Mark looks around and takes notice of the bare décor, simple furniture and little to no decoration on the walls, but there’s still a homey feel to it, everything looking well lived.

They take a sit on the couch and Jaehyun lets go of his hand. The tingles disappear immediately and Mark is once more invisible – even to himself. But before he can freak out again, Jaehyun pulls out a book from under the coffee table and flips through the pages, saying, “There’s gotta be an answer here, don’t worry. And if not, I can ask this lady I’ve known for ages, she’ll definitely be able to fix it.”

As it turns out, there’s no need to consult anyone about it. Jaehyun quickly finds what he’s looking for and he clears his throat to say, “Here. Mark, did you by any chance will yourself to turn invisible? Even if just on accident?”

It all comes crashing down on Mark at the moment. He’d been hoping to go unnoticed while wandering the streets and, apparently, he did it. “I just didn’t want anyone to notice me,” he whispers, “to stay safe.”

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Jaehyun soothes him, “it’s totally normal. I called you a witch, right?” Mark nods. “Well, I’m a witch too. The first time my magic appeared, I almost blinded the cashier at a store with my sparks, these.”

Jaehyun lifts his hands to their line of sight and Mark watches as sparks of light burst through his fingertips. They’re subdued, Mark thinks, as not to scare him, but they’re beautiful nonetheless, like tiny fireworks in Jaehyun’s hands. “They’re the physical manifestation of my magic. I use light magic, mostly sympathetic, but I’ve learned to do nature and elemental magic. You could learn, as well. I felt your powers when we touched hands for the first time and I think you could be very powerful if you wanted.”

“I don’t know if I want to,” Mark admits. He’s terrified and it shows in his voice, shaky, unstable and awful.

Jaehyun’s expression turns even gentler and he speaks softly, “You don’t have to decide anything right now. All you need to worry about is following my instructions so you can turn visible again.”

Mark breathes in and out deeply and does as he’s told. He closes his eyes and envisions himself – Jaehyun warns him not to fill in on the details too much, because Illusions can be tricky and they don’t want Mark visualizing himself in a way he doesn’t actually look -, his shoulders that are beginning to fill out and the chubby cheeks he’s about to shed for sharp cheekbones.

When he opens his eyes again, Jaehyun is smiling widely and staring at him, not through him. Mark takes the chance and glances down at his lap, so fucking grateful to see his legs are right there.

A smile breaks across his face as he sighs happily. “Thank you, hyung. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jaehyun grins. “You’re kinda cute, you know?”

~

To wake up in a silent bedroom wasn’t something Mark was used to growing up. Now, six months into living with Jaehyun, it’s the best constant of his life. Jaehyun sleeps on the bedroom next door and only ever comes into Mark’s if it’s absolutely necessary, so Mark can have his privacy. He doesn’t have much in terms of decoration in here, although the rest of the apartment is certainly coming to life now that there are two people living here and not just one; still, Mark slowly fills his new bedroom with things he likes, and it’s starting to look like any other teenager’s room.

Jaehyun has been a great teacher, and an excellent friend to Mark. Not only has he helped Mark understand the nature of his abilities and how to use them, he’s also given Mark a home and a family. No more nights going to bed wondering if someone would miss him if he disappeared, no more wistful thinking about being adopted and having someone to go home to, because he has Jaehyun now. He knows that Jaehyun would lose his shit if something happened to Mark – hell; he had a breakdown the one time they were separated in a crowd.

Through means that Mark isn’t disclosed to, Jaehyun gets his hands on Mark’s papers and now shows as his guardian – in the eyes of the law, Jaehyun is of age, again through means that Mark isn’t familiar with – so Mark can stay with him forever. Jaehyun enrols him into his school and even gets him a part-time job at the minimart down the block from their apartment complex, so both have an income to hold their home together. More importantly, Mark gets a last name: he chooses Lee because it’s simple, common and goes unnoticed, but it’s still familiar enough, just how Mark wants.

“How did you get this place?” Mark asks one evening. They are on the couch, eating too greasy pizza and ignoring the cable movie playing on the TV. It’s something that’s been lurking at the back of Mark’s head for weeks and he’s finally worked up the guts to ask. “You’re a kid.”

“Magic,” is all Jaehyun says, his fingers sparkling red and blue. Mark only rolls his eyes at Jaehyun’s dramatics and doesn’t question further – that is all the answer he needed.

Mark learns how to create Illusions on purpose. He’s able to trick their landlord into thinking he’s speaking to Jaehyun’s middle-aged uncle when he comes in to fix their showerhead while Jaehyun is out; he convinces Father Kim that he was adopted when he runs into him at the mall, among other things; he even selfishly uses his new ability to convince his Chemistry professor that he totally did turn in his homework. Mark isn’t entirely proud of himself for it but at least he avoided flunking that grade and that is all that matters.

Jaehyun is eager to teach him elemental magic, the kind of magic Jaehyun excels at, but Mark only seems to be good at water and earth control. Fire gets out of his hands too much and air is too flighty, but water and earth are simpler. Mark learns to tend to small flowers on the park nearby and mops up the spilled water with a simple glance, but stays as far away from fire as he possibly can. Illusions, however, remain his forte.

~

Donghyuck arrives in their lives in a whirlwind.

In spite of how young he is, he’s still so much more advanced in magic than Mark is, probably a given since his grandmother thought him everything she could since he first exhibited signs of magic in his blood. Donghyuck is the one to teach Mark how to do a proper incantation, how to manifest his energy through physical tendrils of light, how to make plants grow without water and how to communicate with small animals.

Mark doesn’t even mind having to share a room with him, because Donghyuck is sunshine personified and there’s no way Mark could possibly feel annoyed by him. The younger boy just had to smile at him and he was already buried under his skin. Jaehyun clearly feels the same, the fond gaze in his eyes whenever Donghyuck is in the vicinity enough proof of it. Donghyuck smiles like he has the entire sun compressed into his blood and laughs like a child and brightens up their lives in a way Mark didn’t imagine possible.

The years they spend together in the apartment are precious. Mark never thought he could feel so loved until it happened, and now he doesn’t even want to imagine losing either of them – it would be a too harsh blow. His heart would crumble before bearing the loss of them.

Sometimes, the three of them will spend an entire day sitting around the living room, Donghyuck and Jaehyun teaching Mark random spells and charms that don’t exactly fit into his lessons, and Mark surprises them with things he’s learnt on his own. Once, he performs a spell that’s had Donghyuck stumped for weeks and the two of them look at him with equally surprised and proud gazes that make Mark flush to his ears.

Donghyuck is enrolled in the same school as Mark, but in the year below. Mark thinks Donghyuck is smart enough to be in his class, and he breezes through the lessons and examinations like he could do it in his sleep. There’s something strangely satisfying about seeing Donghyuck do so well in school.

Mark graduates soon after and Jaehyun and Donghyuck bring honest to God banners to the ceremony, sparkly, glittery, embarrassing and wonderful, just like them. Mark cries a little when he sees it.

After what feels like no time at all, they’re living in the house. The first month, Mark is too jittery and mind-scattered to pay attention to anything, but afterwards he lets himself see what’s around him, and to appreciate the change he’s gone through.

For instance, he allows himself be pulled into the whirlwind that is being friends with Yukhei. They’re the only ones their age in the house and it serves as enough incentive for them to become friends. Turns out, Yukhei isn’t just the loud, goofy guy Mark had pegged him as when they met; he’s also a boy who had to grow up too fast to keep himself and his companion alive and uses the cheerfulness as a barrier between him and the things out there that could potentially harm him.

“Jeno was so _tiny_ when we met,” Yukhei tells him one night. Mark can’t sleep sometimes, Yukhei is too restless to fall asleep before 3am, and they usually wind up sitting outside the house and sharing anecdotes. “I was afraid I’d crush him in my hands when he was in kitten shape. He spent most of his days shifted, I guess because we didn’t know each other that well.”

“I didn’t know that,” Mark says, “I think I always assumed Jeno was born to be all tall and broad.”

“Nah, that’s on him. I’m pretty sure I would have died in the streets without him to pull me up and out every morning and it’s that kind of strength that allowed him to grow so much.”

Yukhei says it as an attempted joke, but there’s too much vulnerability behind the statement for it to be funny. Mark thinks about his words for the next few days, especially while he watches them interact: at first glance, Yukhei and Jeno don’t seem like a very likely friendship, simply because they’re too different in personality, but they work well together, like they were meant to be.

Mark bonds with the other kids faster than he does with the older guys. That’s not to say he doesn’t get along with the adults or that he has any issues with them, he’s simply more comfortable around the easy going friendship they have. It’s easier to mess around with Renjun and Jaemin because he’s not on constant edge and wondering if they’re going to turn around any second to make out, which is how he feels around Johnny and Jaehyun.

Jeno is an absolute sweetheart with everyone, except maybe Yukhei when they bicker over the littlest things. Even while he’s in human form, Jeno drapes himself over everyone and purrs if Mark pets his hair, and he smiles languidly anytime Renjun or Donghyuck let him nap on their laps. Mark is amazed at the similarities between kitten Jeno and human Jeno, but he thinks he likes human Jeno just the tiniest bit more.

The kids surprise him, more often than the adults do. There’s something about them that keeps Mark on the edge of his seat in a good way, because he knows he can’t get too comfortable before one of them comes up with a crazy idea or thought. For instance, one morning Jaemin looks up from his Captain Crunch cereal and says, very serious, “I’m going to learn French. Mark hyung, you’ll learn with me, right?” And that is how Mark ends up studying French with Jaemin, his head spinning with the noun genders and his tongue twisting and catching in his mouth whenever he tries to pronounce the letter R.

Renjun is a tad more subdued than his best friend, but still unpredictable and energetic enough to bounce off the walls if kept inside for too long. The pixy’s wings are constantly fluttering and lifting him off the ground while he goes around the house looking for something to do; the only thing that really sets him apart from Jaemin is that Renjun isn’t one to come up with insane plans that involve Mark getting out of bed at midnight.

Chenle and Jisung are both equally shy when they arrive. Chenle speaks very limited Korean and struggles to walk around the rooms with his wings, while Jisung is dead scared of everyone and everything, jumping at the slightest noise, but they grow on Mark far too quickly for him to really catch himself. Chenle is the first to warm up to him, his broken Korean mixed up with random Chinese and English words, while Jisung only really starts to approach him after Mark brews him a soothing potion for his nerves.

Mark finds his family at age 13, and then gets more than he bargained for at age 19.

It’s all Donghyuck’s doing, honestly. No one can say that boy isn’t useful.


	7. as warm as the sun, as silly as fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hello
> 
> i know it's been a hot minute since the last update but i've been very much uninspired lately, thankfully yesterday i could finish this 
> 
> this chapter is different to the previous ones, instead of writing from the past the story is set in 2018 and it focuses a lot on jenhei and their dynamics, while their backstory is told by them to mark and renjun 
> 
> please let me know how you feel about the new format in narration!! and i hope you enjoy!!

_August 27th, 2018_

Jeno used to have a home that did not consist of a cardboard box he shared with a puppy. His home was warm and safe and it had the perfect sunny spot for his afternoon naps; the cardboard box was n9ot warm or safe but it was big enough for him and Yukhei, and at least the pup _was_ warm and safe.

The streets, typically filled with dirt and grime, people going about their own lives without consideration for others, used to be the only thing Jeno knew. He knew how to navigate the winding blocks and stores, when to keep his head low and when to stare people down, where the best food could be found and which places to steer clear of. He does not need that kind of knowledge anymore, of course, but that does not mean he can simply get rid of the more ingrained habits.

For instance, sometimes he will shoot out of bed and underneath it if someone bursts into his room too suddenly, or he will stay on the roof the entire day without realizing and then come down to find the entire house in shambles. Doyoung, particularly, worries terribly the first handful of times Jeno does this, but thankfully, everyone seems to have noticed his habit and just let him be after a while. It is just; it is hard for Jeno to forget that he is not on his own anymore.

Yukhei goes through the same, Jeno knows. His typically relaxed companion will often times burrow into his own head and disappear among his thoughts, only snapping back into reality if kitten Jeno nips at his fingertips and head-butts him in the stomach. Jeno can read Yukhei like an open children’s book and knows exactly when to pull him out of his memories before it is too much for him.

~

One memory they both share, possibly the best in Yukhei’s opinion, is of the day they met.

Yukhei was nothing but a couple of years old in human years, but in dog years, he was already nearing adulthood, and so his mentality was far more mature than his physical appearance would have suggested. He spent most days in puppy form, though, wandering the streets in search for somewhere warm or for food. He was still learning about the harshness of the world, so he was not the smartest when choosing the places he stayed at; more than once, he was chased out of alleys and sidewalks by humans that did not want him loitering around their shops.

That morning, Yukhei was just finally slowing down from a running attempt at escaping a particularly angry butcher when he slammed into a cat. Yukhei stumbled, and he would have crashed into a woman and her baby carrier if it were not for the reflexes he was quickly developing. The cat, the second it had the chance, scratched Yukhei across the face and snarled at him, but Yukhei had already caught a flash of the cat’s glinting eyes and sharp ears and he knew he was standing in front of a shape-shifter.

Of course, Yukhei did not want to leave the shifter alone after he figured that out. His usual move of running away when encountered with trouble faded to the back of his mind and he followed the cat in hopes of maybe making a new friend. It worked after an hour or two, and the cat shifted back to human at the insistence of human Yukhei, once they were in a secluded area of a protected park and there wasn’t anyone around.

The cat was the tiniest thing in the world in both shapes. As a cat, his fur was black and his eyes were emerald green, but as human, he had warm brown eyes and the frailest bones, like a baby bird. It was the first time Yukhei saw his human form and it was also the last time for months, but it stuck in Yukhei’s mind forever, the fragile state of his body and the harsh fire that glowed in his eyes. At the time, neither of than had names, so Yukhei referred to him as ‘Kitten’, both in his head and aloud when he was in human form, and Jeno called him ‘Puppy’ as well.

It was a blur, a confusing handful of days, in which Yukhei chased Jeno around the city. He did it for various reasons: one, Yukhei wanted to make sure Jeno was safe, given the state he was in when they met; two, it was far more entertaining to watch him than to be alone; three, the hardest reason to admit, Yukhei did not want to be alone.

It took some time, but eventually Kitten opened up to him. He still did not shift to human form around him, but at least he stopped scurrying away whenever he caught sight of Yukhei around the corner. It lead up to them sharing refugee during storms and chilly nights, to perpetually staking claim of an alley and a box all to themselves, one they did not need to share with anyone else.

When Yukhei went down a dark spiral, he would have probably died if it were not for Jeno. He is being serious, too; Yukhei could not work up the will to get out of the alley for weeks, and Jeno was the one who went out and brought back food for Yukhei. Yukhei bounced back after the month mark, perkier and more energy driven than before, and it was all thanks to Jeno.

They had to move around multiple times for safety purposes, and each time there was a hint of fear in Yukhei’s mind, thinking that Jeno would definitely leave, but he never left. In fact, after a while, he did not show the slightest clue of wanting to ditch him.

Jeno was the first person to show Yukhei any type of kindness or love, and Yukhei adored him for that.

~

Renjun asks Jeno once about his home before the streets.

They are sitting on the rooftop together, watching the stars twinkle above their heads while the rest of the house sleeps beneath them – except for Doyoung and Taeyong, of course, who are probably wandering the streets of Seoul right now.

“I was born in a house,” Jeno muses. Shifters have naturally better memories than regular animals and so he does not need to think too hard to answer. “My mother was adopted by a family but they did not want more pets so they waited for me to be a few months old before sending me to the shelter. Their house had a window facing the front yard and I spent most of my time sleeping there.”

“You had siblings?” Renjun asks tentatively.

Jeno hums. “Yeah. I don’t know what happened to them, to be honest. Only one of them shifted to human form, once. I don’t know if the others could shift as well or not. They waited until we were old enough and then we all were sent to different shelters – we were a litter of six. Two of them were adopted by neighbours but the rest of us weren’t so lucky.”

A shooting star flies over their heads. Jeno watches it disappear into the horizon while Renjun chooses his next question carefully. The air between them is dangerously fragile and Renjun is clearly worried he will say the wrong thing and scare Jeno away. Jeno wants to tell him there is nothing to worry about – he trusts Renjun almost as much as he trusts Yukhei, he could ask him virtually anything and Jeno would answer in a heartbeat.

“How long were you in a shelter?” Renjun finally asks.

“Not long,” Jeno shrugs. His eyelids are getting heavy but he does not want to leave. “I left after I heard they kill animals if they aren’t adopted. Now that I think about it, I was a kitten so they probably would have let me live longer, but,” he shrugs again.

“Maybe,” Renjun concedes. “And, uh, when did you first shift?”

“After I met Yukhei.” Jeno smiles at the memory. Yukhei had been so sure Jeno was a shifter but he was still taken aback when Jeno showed his human form to him, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide open. He’d pointed at Jeno and shouted in glee, shaking Jeno side to side. “I hardly ever shifted, and it was the first time I did it in… months, actually. I was not too into being human at the time but it was necessary if we wanted certain things, so.”

“Has Xuxi always been this… energetic?” Renjun says energetic like he wants to say another word entirely and Jeno stifles a laugh behind his fist. Renjun elbows him in the ribs and tells him to stop laughing at him, but Jeno can only smile at him.

Jeno can finally answer after a minute. “Yeah, he has. I thought he was kind of annoying at first but he grows on you, I guess. At times, I wanted nothing to do with him but afterwards I couldn’t imagine having to be on my own again.”

“Okay, but what about your names?”

Jeno laughs aloud this time. He was not expecting Renjun to ask about that in particular – it’s not like it is a big deal, is it?

“Why do you want to know about our names?” Jeno looks at him with his head tilted to the side. Yukhei’s puppy mannerisms stuck to him like glue after so many years.

“You’re shifters, and you don’t have families, so I’m curious to know how you got them.”

“Well,” Jeno sighs, “it is kind of a funny story.”

Jeno and Yukhei were together for nearly a year when the subject of names came up. They were lounging in human forms near a church, waiting for the charity truck to show up to try and get some stuff they could use, when they heard a few girls in the corner talking about how the new priest is requiring people to sign a list when taking things from the boxes. The girls had been bitching about the unfairness of it all and Jeno and Yukhei had looked at each other in surprise and mild apprehension – neither of them had thought about the need for a surname and had spent the their entire time together calling each other ‘puppy’ and ‘kitten’, and that was only when they felt the need to call each other something.

They decided to wait until the truck arrived before making any decisions. They weren’t dressed for the weather and so they huddled together for warmth, much to Yukhei’s pleasure since he was permanently touch starved – Jeno did not want to admit it, but he was growing to love the physical attention, as well. While they sat, Jeno started to think about it: he did not have a name; did he not have an identity? It seemed like an exaggeration to Jeno’s rational mind, but he couldn’t help it.

Yukhei could practically hear him thinking and told him to take a deep breath and to stop worrying so much, everything would be fine. But the can of worms was opened and Jeno couldn’t stop thinking even if he tried. He barely noticed the truck pull up in front of the church if it hadn’t been for Yukhei pulling him up and dragging him along.

There really was a list. There was outrage among the crowd waiting for the charity and it served to break Jeno out of his thoughts, his hackles raising at the increased noise around him and he pressed closer to Yukhei for protection – he knew they resembled around ten years old in human age and it was not weird for kids to stick together, and so he did not worry about anyone thinking anything of them.

Yukhei put a placating hand on Jeno’s shoulder and pushed him forward, through the messy crowd of bodies and closer to the list. Once there, Jeno stared at the white sheet of paper and blanked.

“Just write whatever.” Yukhei, even at such young physical age, was taller than Jeno already and he had to lean down a bit to speak in Jeno’s ear.

Jeno did a quick scan of the list and took two syllables from the title, then took the last name from the head of the charity, and wrote: LEE JENO. He nodded to himself afterwards and handed the pen to Yukhei for him to do the same. Yukhei knew of his birthplace and he knew of an artist of the name Wong Yukhei, liked the name, and so chose it for his own.

“Just like that?” Renjun asks. “You picked three random syllables and boom, Lee Jeno was born?”

“Kinda. Later on, I decided it fit me and asked Yukhei to call me it. He liked his name as well and used it on a daily basis. I guess you can say it was not all that spontaneous given the circumstances but still.”

“If it is worth anything, I really like your name,” Renjun tells him. Jeno thinks he sounds really shy in that moment, very hesitant.

“We knew each other, back then,” Jeno says all of a sudden. Renjun’s head whips to the side and he stares at Jeno in shock, clearly not understanding what Jeno is trying to say. “When we were little kids, you used to sit outside a supermarket for coins, remember?” Renjun nods in a daze. “Remember the black cat that visited you each time?”

“That was you?!” Renjun demands to know. Jeno giggles at his reaction and nods in confirmation. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“In my defence, I only just know connected the dots,” Jeno laughs. “I had my suspicions but I didn’t want to say anything in case I was wrong. You grew up to be quite the heartbreaker, you know?”

Jeno didn’t actually mean to say it aloud. Renjun gapes at him at the same time Jeno slaps a hand over his mouth and groans in mortification. If the air around them wasn’t tense before, it definitely is now. Jeno is suddenly hyperaware of every inch of skin that’s touching between them, how Renjun smells of rosebushes and fresh grass and of his eyes that literally sparkle in the moonlight.

They have their first kiss that night. Jeno, surprisingly or not, is the one to lean in and press his lips to Renjun’s, nothing more than a simple peck, but Renjun still blushes like a thousand suns and sighs into his neck when Jeno pulls him into his hold. Jeno smiles when Renjun pulls away and kisses his cheek, all the answer he needs. Renjun is trembling in his arms and Jeno sympathises – they have no idea what they are doing, they just know it feels right. They will deal with the consequences in the morning.

~

Yukhei knows right away there is something different about Jeno the next day. Jeno is too perky, his steps too light, and Yukhei stares at him with narrowed eyes for a handful of minutes until he cannot take it any longer and asks, “What’s gotten you in such a good mood?”

It was entirely too entertaining to watch Jeno blush to the tips of his ears and avoid his gaze. Yukhei can tell it is not anything bad, which is why he prods and annoys Jeno until the kitten sighs in exasperation and tells him, hushed so no one can overhear him, “I may have kissed Renjun last night –" Yukhei gasps, “- and he might have kissed me back.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Yukhei hisses accusatorily. He pouts when Jeno rolls his eyes at him.

“It was 2am, I didn’t tell anyone,” Jeno stresses. “I literally went right to bed after that – _alone_ , Xuxi,” he laughs at Yukhei’s wiggle of his eyebrows, “I went to bed alone.”

“That’s so sad,” Yukhei mocks him. Jeno scowls at him, punches his arm, but it’s nothing compared to his real punches, and Yukhei brushes it off with ease. “You know I don’t sleep so that’s no excuse, you could have still come and woken me up.”

Upon arrival to the house, they were told ruefully that there weren’t any spare rooms with two beds, only two beds in separate rooms, and that they would not be able to share a room. Yukhei wanted to protest, because it felt like they were being separated and his anxiety would not be able to handle it, but the rooms were next to each other and Jeno had no trouble sneaking into his bed if he wanted to. Still, it sucks when they want to have private conversations and can’t because kicking your roommate out of his own bedroom is considered rude and generally frowned upon.

“There’s nothing to talk about, anyway,” Jeno says. His lips pull down at the corners and Yukhei frowns in sympathy. “I don’t know where we stand and I don’t want to speculate.”

“Why don’t you ask Renjun, then?” Yukhei suggests. It seems like the logical step and he doesn’t understand why Jeno didn’t think of it first. “He kissed you back, that probably means he likes you.”

“I can’t just ask Renjun what we are, it’s not like we’re…. whatever,” Jeno sighs in defeat. Yukhei wants to press further, to convince Jeno that talking is literally the easiest thing in the world, but he knows Jeno’s limits and he can tell he’s reaching them now, his shoulders tense. Yukhei never wanted to upset Jeno and he drops the subject, thankfully.

For all his hesitancy, however, Yukhei sees Jeno talk to Renjun that same afternoon. They’re too far away for Yukhei to eavesdrop – not that he would ever, of course –; nevertheless, Yukhei can read Jeno’s body language and he can see the second Jeno goes from tense apprehension to relaxed joyfulness.

And, later that night, the two of them walk into the dining room shyly holding hands and avoiding eye contact with everyone. Yukhei isn’t sure what makes them think they would have any reaction other than happiness for them – they seem genuinely surprised when Jaemin shouts at them and a smile breaks across his face. The others aren’t too far behind, albeit none is as boisterous as Jaemin is. Renjun sits down in his usual spot while flushing furiously and bats Jaemin’s cooing away with a threat to stab him with a silver fork. Jeno preens under Yukhei’s praising wink and thanks Mark quietly when the older boy pats his back and congratulates him.

~

They grow close to different hyungs. Jeno bonds with Doyoung in a heartbeat, while Yukhei sticks to Kun and Sicheng due to shared backgrounds. Before he lived in the streets of Seoul, Yukhei was in Hong Kong, and even if he grew up with Cantonese, he knows enough Mandarin to talk with the two dragons without a hitch.

“How did you get to Seoul?” Mark asks him. It’s yet another one of their late night talks on the porch, this time huddled together under a thick blanket to fence off the harsh coldness of the winter.

“Bro, not even I know,” Yukhei laughs despite himself. There really is no logical explanation for it, other than strange mistakes and mislabelled luggage. “Uh, as a puppy I was adopted by a family. They didn’t know I was a shifter, of course, and I knew not to show them what I could do, so they assumed I was a simple dog. I was raised the first couple of months of my life in a shelter in Hong Kong and because my mind aged faster than my body during that time, I learned Cantonese listening to the clerks in the front and the vet in the back. Anyway, I was adopted before I turned one year old – human years - and after I got all my vaccinations and everything, the family decided to move.”

“To Seoul?” Mark asks.

“Macau, actually,” Yukhei clarifies. “There was a mislabelling of their luggage and I ended up in Korea. Then, for whatever reason, the airport took me to a shelter and left me there. Or they would have, if the guy hadn’t gotten distracted and I hadn’t run away.”

Mark looks bewildered. “Why did you run?”

“I was scared,” Yukhei admits with a shrug. It jostles Mark, who’s resting his head on Yukhei’s bicep, but the witch barely grunts. “I didn’t want to go back to a shelter. I was getting old and I was afraid they’d put me down.”

“I thought you were one year old?” Mark frowns.

Yukhei thinks about the easiest way to explain this to him. “Shifters in general age differently to regular humans. As a dog, my mental age matured faster than my body. Physically, my dog form is par to my human age in regards to size, but even before I turned one chronological year of being born, I was already around five years old in mental age. I don’t know if that makes sense. Other hybrids are different, as well, so if you want to know about Jeno’s aging, you’ll have to ask him.”

Mark shakes his head, yawns widely, and then settles further into the blanket. “That’s alright. Supernatural creatures don’t make sense in general.”

“You got that right,” Yukhei giggles. Mark falls asleep within minutes of them going silent and Yukhei contemplates carrying him inside, but he decides to wait for someone else to wake up so they can help him – preferably Johnny or Jaehyun. Yukhei falls asleep before that happens.

It’s Taeil who finds them. The human is a freakishly early riser and he’s stepping out into the gardens an hour later, the sun barely peeking over the treeline in the horizon. He takes one look at the curled up boys on the deck and supresses an endeared squeal, instead pulls his phone out of the pocket of his hoody and snaps close to twenty photos of them, sending them to the household groupchat with heart emojis and keyboard smashes that Ten will make fun of him for without a doubt.

Doyoung and Taeyong return home minutes later and they carry the boys inside. Taeyong grabs Mark and rolls his eyes – no heat behind – when the witch nuzzles into his chest like a child. Doyoung has to arrange and rearrange Yukhei’s long limbs to be able to carry him, but Yukhei subconsciously tucks himself in and makes the job easier for the vampire.

Kun wakes up at the sound of Doyoung putting Yukhei to bed. Sicheng is, unsurprisingly, curled over Kun and snoring into his chest, their legs visibly tangled under the covers. Doyoung offers him a smile in lieu of greeting and places Yukhei on his bed, does his best to tuck the blankets around his large frame before stepping out of the room. Doyoung still has the largest soft spot for the two shifters, ever since he met them on the streets and offered them a place in their home – Jeno had been terribly apprehensive about the whole ordeal, but Yukhei had sniffed out his true intentions in a heartbeat and vouched for him.

Jeno slinks into Yukhei’s bed later in cat form. Yukhei wakes up when the door creaks open, settling down the second he notices it’s just Jeno. The shifter’s ears flick side to side as he climbs under the blankets and curls up against Yukhei’s tummy, his tail wrapping around Yukhei’s wrist. Yukhei puts a hand over Jeno and scratches under his chin; a sleepy smile overtaking his features at Jeno’s pleased purrs.

It’s not often Jeno does this anymore, but it isn’t uncommon either. Sometimes, he’ll have trouble sleeping on his own – not like Yukhei’s insomnia, but closer in the mornings – and he’ll seek out Yukhei for comfort. Ever since he got together with Renjun, it’s become less frequent, now that he has a boyfriend to cuddle him and whatnot, but nothing beats the familiarity of the puppy and his warmth.

Jeno and Yukhei still feel their safest when they’re together.


	8. through the glory of life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me at the beginning of the chapter: how am i supposed to write a 4k of chenle i don't have enough plot for him
> 
> also me towards the end of the chapter: only my god how am i supposed to squeeze so much plot in just 4k what the fuck

The third room to the right on the second floor has a perfect view of the entrance. It is nearer to the centre of the house rather than the corner, close to a bathroom, and enough closet space for three people. The bunk bed is placed by the window, while the single bed is on the opposite side, nearer to the desk where a stash of videogames is leaning precariously to the side.

On his first day at the house, Chenle is guided to that bedroom and told he will be sharing with a shape-shifter named Jeno. He doesn’t know much about shifters in general, having grown in the woods his whole life, but he thinks this Jeno fella looks like an overall nice guy; he greets Chenle with a smile and shows him to the bunks, where the bottom one has been fixed with a fluffy, pink blanket and two pillows, the bed sheets sky blue. Jeno offers to switch the bedding to the top bunk if he wants, his smile never faltering, and he nods when Chenle declines with a simple shake of his head.

Chenle takes his time to settle in. He doesn’t have much in terms of belongings, nothing more than the clothes on his back and a few trinkets he managed to salvage from his home before it was completely destroyed, stashed in a ratty satchel made from leather by his dad. Jeno leaves him alone so Chenle can properly acquaint himself with his new home. The fairy makes good use of the desk they give him, unloading his bag carefully: the ballpoint pen he found by the river, the many bracelets he made with twigs, leaves and flowers, the metal can he painted with the juice of cranberries and other wild fruits where he stored rocks, and finally the matching rings his parents wore on their fingers before they gave them to him on his birthday.

When he’s done, Jeno returns and gives him fresh clothes, still warm from the dryer – he says _dryer_ with a funny accent, Chenle thinks – and tells him he can borrow them for the time being. “I imagine you’ll want to shower now,” Jeno says, “you can pass me your clothes through the door and I’ll wash them. These might be a little big on you but I’m sure the hyungs will take you shopping later this week.” The clothes are Jeno’s, then. Chenle takes a glimpse at the faded graphic tee and the jeans and smiles lightly.

The clothes truly are large on his frame, Chenle discovers, as he examines himself in front of the full body mirror hanging on the door. The shirt has holes on the back, seemingly cut just now, and his wings are free to hang out of the fabric. His hair is damp from the shower and he feels fresher than he has since the incident. It’s surreal, he thinks, that mere hours ago he was homeless, surviving on his wits alone and smothering his black wings under heavy clothing. And now… now, he might have a chance at a home. He might be getting ahead of himself, maybe, but he wants to savour the sensation of hope for as long as he can.

Dinner is an interesting affair. Chenle’s wings are too large to fit inside most rooms and he probably won’t be able to sit next to anyone, and the hesitation shows clear as day on his face. The first one to do anything about it is, not so surprisingly, Jeno. He alerts the older members of the house and another chair is placed at the head of the table, so he can sit without having to worry about his wings. Chenle thinks he’s lucky to have a roommate that seems so concerned for his comfort. He’s not the only one with wings, no: there are six guardian angels living in the house, at least for a short while, their wings varying from black to grey to white. Chenle felt intimidated by them, because of their imposing auras and suits, until he witnessed them interact with each other, as well as the rest of the house, and concluded they can’t be so bad.

He goes to sleep feeling lighter at heart than that morning, listening to the steady breathing of Jeno on the other bed and watching the shadows on the ceiling shift until he succumbs to the Sandman.

~

Kun takes him to the forest surrounding the house the next morning. Chenle has missed nature, the few weeks he spent in the city after his home was burned down absolutely awful, and he’s glad to breathe fresh air, damp dirt and fallen leaves for what feels like the first time in an eternity. Kun seems happy enough with seeing Chenle smile at his surroundings. Chenle could stay here forever, surrounded by nature spirits and feeling like a fairy once more, but sooner than he would have liked Kun is quietly reminding him of curfew.

“There are things in the forest that only come out at night,” Kun explains as they walk back to the house’s premises, “but you can never be too careful. It’s okay if you want to stay around the yard or the porch past seven, but try not to wander off further than the treeline.”

Chenle only nods. He doesn’t want to go, no, but he trusts Kun’s judgement. He trusted him yesterday morning at the café when the dragon offered him a place to go without having met him prior to that minute; he’s obviously going to trust him now. There’s a soothing aura about Kun, gentleness to his features and voice that reassure Chenle everything will be fine. Chenle will be fine.

The other woodland creatures in the house keep Chenle company most of the time. There’s Renjun, a pixy near his age, and his older brother figure Ten, the two of them doing their best to keep their natural distaste between their species at bay for his sake; Hyunjoon, a flower nymph, has enough fate in Chenle to let him handle the pot that holds his lifeline. Sicheng, the other dragon, cooks for Chenle every once in a while and entertains him with stories of what China was like before he moved to Korea, which was way before Chenle was even born.

Chenle is grateful to have these people in his life. It feels like a support system, kind of.

~

The first time Chenle talks, everyone is so taken aback, Mark gapes for seconds. He’s not the only one.

It happens on the day Hyunjoon and Eric are set to leave with a guy who introduced himself as Chanhee, from a werewolf pack uptown. Chenle grew attached to Hyunjoon in the few weeks they were at the house together and he is saddened to see him go, and he hugs Hyunjoon tightly before pulling away with a smile and says, “Bye, hyung. I hope you’re happy with your new family.”

Hyunjoon doesn’t miss a beat and responds right away. “Thanks, Chenle. I’m certain you’re going to be very happy here, trust me. But if you need someone to rescue you from Jeno, just give me a call.” Jeno makes a faint sound of protest at that, but he doesn’t interrupt. Chenle smiles a little wider and he hugs Hyunjoon again before making way for his other friends in the house.

His goodbye with Eric isn’t as emotional for him, given that he didn’t share with the human as much as he did with the nymph; however, he offers Eric the same smile and hugs him, too, because he doesn’t want him to feel left out. Not that it would be possible, given how Renjun clung to him for a full hour before Chanhee came to pick them up. Once they’re gone, Chenle retreats into his shell at the sight of everyone staring clearly surprised that he spoke – he heard Taeil talking to the other hyungs one night, telling them Chenle was selectively mute and that he would talk when he was ready – but none wanting to bring it up in case he clams up once more.

However, Chenle can see their eyes brimming with curiosity and, dare he say, pride. It makes his chest tighten and he wants to cry, just a little. He doesn’t, though, he just sits with Jeno on the couch and hides behind his broad shoulders.

~

To be fair, Chenle noticed Yukhei the second he walked into the house. It’s kind of hard not to, considering the shifter is tall, broad and loud, his presence big in every room he’s in. And, yeah, maybe at first Chenle didn’t want to hang around him too often because he was a little bit afraid, and maybe he thought Yukhei was too much. It’s not like you can blame Chenle for it, though; he grew up surrounded by forests, nature nymphs and small animals, stayed clear of the bigger ones like bears. Chenle isn’t used to big dogs like him.

It wasn’t just Yukhei, either. Chenle also avoided being around the wolves or the vampires too often, especially if he’s alone, something about their predatory nature simply too intimidating for his fragile fairy heart. Renjun, Ten, Sicheng and Kun are all safe bets, Jeno is his roommate so Chenle knows he’s harmless, and the witches can sometimes be overwhelming – Donghyuck’s fingers are always sprouting small sparks of magic and Mark is constantly scrubbing dried chalk from his skin – but generally well-intended. Chenle also goes to Johnny sometimes, or Taeil, whenever he misses his parents and thinks it would be good for him to be in the presence of parental figures.

That being said, Chenle has noticed lately that Yukhei always seems to be in the corner of his eyes, always in the near vicinity. Initially, he thinks he might be exaggerating or seeing things that aren’t really there, until Renjun sits next to him on the couch one day and says, far too casual to be natural, “So. Yukhei.”

Chenle hasn’t been speaking for long. It’s been two weeks since Hyunjoon and Eric left, maybe, and he doesn’t talk much unless prompted. Chenle startles out of his daydream and turns to look at Renjun with wide eyes, his wings fluttering just the tiniest bit in surprise. “What about him?”

Renjun raises his eyebrows. Chenle knows he’s been practicing lifting just one because he saw him doing it in front of the mirror the other night. He’d giggled the entire walk back to his room.

“I noticed he’s been,” Renjun hesitates for a second, “ogling you. That’s probably not the right word, sorry.”

“We can speak Chinese, if you want,” Chenle offers. Renjun smiles, clearly relieved, and he finally finds the words to say what he wants. “But I still don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Xuxi is still a puppy,” Renjun explains. “He’s excitable and loves easily. I just want to say that you should be careful.”

And with that cryptic sentence, Renjun pats Chenle’s arm and walks away. Chenle watches him disappear into the kitchen, where Jaemin is attempting to cook something without help. Needless to say, it doesn’t work very well. Jaemin isn’t typically allowed to do a lot of cooking without the aid of Hansol or Yuta, and this is a weird kind of rebellious streak.

Chenle is left alone to mull over Renjun’s words. He’s still lost as to what he meant, but he promptly decides not to worry about it. Chenle doesn’t need any more stress in his life, thank you. He has had enough for a lifetime already.

~

The wings are a problem. No one wants to say it aloud but it’s the truth hanging on everyone’s tongues. They’re too large, take up too much space and Chenle has knocked enough things to the ground that he’s past holding back the tears of frustration. He doesn’t even bother to listen to Kun’s reassurance that it’s fine, because he knows it isn’t.

Chenle continues to sit at the head of the table, one problem down. In bed, he tucks his wings in and does his best to ignore the pinch of pain at the awkward angle; he’d tried sticking them out the window, but that was just another world of pain and Chenle doesn’t want to cry himself to sleep. He always sits by the lower windows and does his best to stay in one place for long amount of times to minimize the damage.

It’s only when he goes to the woods that he finally feels free. Sometimes it’s Kun who takes him, sometimes Sicheng or Renjun, but one day it’s Dongju. He’s a guardian angel, one of the few living in the house, physically closest to Chenle’s age, and until now, he’s mostly kept to himself. Chenle sees him talk to Donghyuck a few times, the two sitting on the porch at night and discussing the stars, but other than that, he seems to stick to his fellow angels.

Of course, Chenle is utterly surprised when Dongju approaches him one morning after breakfast and offers him to go on a fly. Chenle says yes, doesn’t think much of it, happy to have an excuse to go outside. He’s itching to let his wings go and he’s only mildly hesitant to do so with someone he doesn’t know very well.

They fly for what feels like hours. Dongju is kind of breath-taking up in the air, gliding smoothly along the clouds and looking back at Chenle with a wide smile every handful of minutes. Dongju’s hair is black, a little greyish under the sunlight and he’s one of the prettiest boys Chenle has met. Chenle loses track of time quickly, too caught up in the sensation of the wind on his face and the freedom of the sky.

Finally, they rest on the edge of a rocky hill. There isn’t a trace of civilisation for miles, only trees and waterfalls and flowers around them. Chenle swings his feet like a little kid and takes the assortment of fruits Dongju offers. They sky is a beautiful mess of oranges, reds and purples, pinker towards the bottom of the treeline. It reminds Chenle of his time with his parents.

“How come you and the other angels are living in the house?” Chenle asks. He’s genuinely curious to know. “Shouldn’t you be in Heaven or something?”

Dongju laughs. His smile is a little gummy, just a trace of pink over his teeth. Cute. “That’s not really how it works. I guess you could say we’re on vacation and thought we would come down to Earth for a while. I mean, we’ve been here before, yeah, but always on duty.”

“Is it hard to be a guardian angel?” Chenle would imagine it is. To watch over someone their entire life, to know their fate and not be able to do anything about it. It sounds like a shitty job. “Don’t you ever want to interfere?”

“It’s hard,” Dongju says. “I’ve had more than a handful of humans with terrible endings that I wish I could have saved. But our job is to keep them alive and well until their time is up. You know, everyone has an expiration date but that doesn’t mean other things won’t try to get them before they’re due.”

“Really? Isn’t that against the rules?”

“No,” Dongju shrugs. “Just because God has a plan it doesn’t mean there aren’t other forces in the world. You’ve seen it by yourself, all the creatures in the house, all the others out there, that don’t exactly belong to Catholicism. Capital g God isn’t the only god.”

“How does that work, then?”

“It’s quite simple, really. If you believe in, say, my God, then he looks over you. If you happen to be of another religion, you fall under their… well, let’s call it jurisdiction. For instance, when you die, you’ll go to whatever afterlife belongs to your belief. In reality, it’s all just one afterlife, but you’ll see what you believe.”

“That’s,” Chenle blinks, “confusing.”

Dongju nods, chews on a few berries before he continues. “I never said the supernatural world was easy to understand. Sure, it is for me, but I’ve been alive for over a thousand years.”

“You don’t look a thousand years old,” Chenle smiles. “Maybe eight hundred years old.”

Dongju laughs again. “Thank you. You look twelve.” Dongju only laughs even harder when Chenle shoves him.

They stay on the hill for another hour before they go back to the house. By then, it’s already dark, but Dongju has some sort of supernatural guiding system that won’t allow him to get lost, and he holds Chenle’s hand as they soar through the air.

“Anyway,” Dongju shouts over the wind, “there’s a reason I brought you out here!”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve noticed you have issues keeping your wings in check, so I thought I’d give you some pointers, but I guess I got distracted.”

“You can give them now,” Chenle offers.

Dongju slows down, and in consequence, so does Chenle. They’re still moving, yet not so fast, so they can still hear each other. “Try holding them down and not inwards,” Dongju says, “and don’t squeeze them together because that will just make them sore and then you’ll be uncomfortable.”

Chenle can’t hold back his surprise. “Is that it?” Then, fearful he might insult Dongju and the angel will leave him behind, he adds, “Sorry, I just thought you’d have some sort of life altering advice.”

“My twin brother had the same problems as you,” Dongju says, “back when we were still learning how to use our wings. I learnt to walk with them attached to me pretty quickly but Dongmyeong had a harder time. I remember he did some of the same things you did to avoid bumping into everything and it was more troublesome than helpful. And you shouldn’t think of your wings as inconvenient,” he continues, “that’s only going to make things harder.”

They arrive to the house to find several of the hyungs waiting on the backyard. Keonhee, another angel, shouts at the sight of them and it alerts everybody of their presence. Chenle can see Jeno and Jaemin hiding in the living room – they were definitely sent to bed and don’t want to be caught. Chenle was prepared for the onslaught of reprimands but he didn’t expect Taeil clutching him to his chest in a protective cradle.

“Guys,” Dongju whines, his voice muffled by the fabric of Youngjo’s sweater pyjama. “I’m not a child.”

“We were so worried about you gremlins,” Chenle hears Seoho say. He thinks he sounds teary, but he can’t see past the wall that Taeyong and Hansol have formed around him.

Chenle and Dongju are forced to apologize for disappearing like that for hours without saying anything to anyone – Geonhak and Mark shake their heads behind everyone else when they try to protest, signalling them to go with it. Chenle sighs, thinks that they’re overreacting, yet he can’t deny the spark of warmth that comes with knowing he would be missed if something were to happen to him.

Renjun and Donghyuck sneak into Chenle’s and Jeno’s room after everyone has gone to sleep to ask where he went. Renjun slaps Chenle’s arm lightly and tells him not to scare him like that again. “I thought you left,” Renjun whispers, and wow, okay; Chenle isn’t used to this display of warmth from the pixy. Mark, too, seems to have thought the worst. Chenle feels really bad to have scared them like that, although he can’t exactly deny he had the most fun he’s had in a while with Dongju.

“Don’t go getting a crush on a guardian angel,” Donghyuck pleads with him. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m just being cautious. Wouldn’t want you getting your heart broken when he leaves.”

“Hyuck,” Jaemin and Mark warn him at the same time. Donghyuck just shrugs and says, “You know I’m right.”

Chenle doesn’t have a crush, thank you very much.

~

It’s not like they’re grounded per se. It’s simply that they aren’t allowed to do shit without adult supervision for a while.

Okay, so they’re grounded.

It’s actually just Chenle, given that the guardian angels leave a few days after his and Dongju’s air trip. Once more, Chenle sees a friend go, even if he wasn’t as close to Dongju as he was to Hyunjoon, but Dongju promises to keep an eye out for him and it makes Chenle feel a little better.

Thankfully, the hyungs agree that Jeno is enough of an adult and he’s not as much of an overbearing presence. Jeno accompanies him to the forest during the day, even if he stays in cat form for most of the time, and Yukhei will join them after the third time.

A little over a week after the incident, Jeno, for once in human form, asks Chenle quietly if he would be okay with telling them about his past. It is a topic yet to be breached with the others; Kun knows bits and pieces, and Chenle has a feeling Ten and Renjun just _know_ \- Chenle has heard they went through similar experiences, so he wouldn’t put it past them to instinctively know – but everyone else has no clue. Chenle is grateful that they don’t push him to say anything.

Even now, Jeno is giving Chenle all the time in the world to decide if he wants to share this part of his life or not, all the time to back out or say no. Yukhei is a little more obvious about his curiosity, although he’s doing his best to appear nonchalant.

“I lived with my parents in a small village, outside of Beijing,” Chenle starts. Jeno perks up, so does Yukhei, and they seem embarrassed to be caught. “We didn’t have many neighbours, just a handful of other fairies that lived nearby. There was a lake a few miles from our house and I would go there every day and play with the water nymphs. I had some friends, too. We would play hide-and-seek on the trees and sing around a bonfire at night.

“Our house,” he continues, licking his lips and doing his best not to cry, “We hid it with magic, much like we did everything else. But it was a tree house, made entirely of wood and leaves. It was big enough for three of us and it had a hole on the roof for stargazing.”

Chenle grows silent. He doesn’t want to get too emotional, he doesn’t want to cry in front of his friends, he doesn’t want to think about his life from before because he doesn’t think he can handle it.

“One day, while I was at the lake, I saw smoke in the direction if our village. The next thing I remember, I was sitting in the middle of the ash. That was the only thing that was left of my life. And then I started flying and flying and I didn’t stop unless I was exhausted or simply passed out.”

Jeno shifts closer and puts his hand on his thigh. It’s a simple gesture, meant to show comfort. Chenle likes that it helps keep him grounded. “Finally, I don’t know why, I went into Kun’s coffee house. Don’t ask me why I did it, I honestly have no clue – I hadn’t gone into any other place in the weeks I was alone but, somehow, it seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Fate works in funny ways,” Yukhei says. It sounds like a fact, not like he’s saying it to comfort him. “How did Jeno and I meet? I nearly crushed him to the asphalt and boom, here we are.”

“That’s not really how it happened,” Jeno protests and goes largely unheard by the pup.

Chenle watches them bicker back and forth about the circumstances of their meet-up and smiles to himself, happy to know they aren’t making a big deal out of his story and are instead doing their best to keep his mind away from a dark place. It feels oddly nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stan the boyz oneus and onewe


	9. i'll be at the back of your mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "moonsea" by phildel

_July, 2018_

If Jisung were to make a list of the strangest things to happen to him in the house, his two roommates would be on top, sharing the number one spot. And he’s seen his fair share of strange things, too, in his short sixteen years of living.

For starters, Chenle talks in his sleep. It isn’t your typical gibberish others do, like Jeno, but real sentences with carefully articulated words. Jisung once has a full conversation with him, giddy to speak freely in the dead of night and knowing that no one will remember it. Chenle also flutters his wings at random moments during the night and drools, badly. Jisung thinks Chenle is his favourite person in the house, if he’s being honest: he never pushes Jisung or presses into his personal space as the others do – they learn they shouldn’t the hard way – and he allows Jisung to play with the feathers on his wings if he’s nervous.

Jeno is strange, too. Jisung hasn’t been around other hybrids before so he doesn’t know what to expect most of the time, although he definitely didn’t expect Jeno’s human ears to shift to cat ears when he is startled; certainly, no one else did, because Donghyuck jumped about a foot in the air when it happened and he’d been the one to scare Jeno in the first place by leaping out of a cabinet. Jeno’s tail also makes an appearance sometimes, mostly if he’s sleepy or feeling particularly playful but isn’t in the right place to fully shift. One evening, at dinner, Jeno smiles suspiciously for minutes and then the long curl of his tail comes out and he starts to tickle Jaehyun until the witch sneezes repeatedly.

Other things happen that he finds rather odd, though. For instance, one night Jisung goes downstairs, as he usually does, to drink some water and look out the window until he feels sleepy enough – which happens towards the wee hours of the morning – and he finds himself face to face with Taeyong and Johnny. The two are sitting on the breakfast bar, Johnny working on some sort of creamy potion while Taeyong reads him the ingredients aloud. Taeyong is the first to look up, probably sensed Jisung before he even reached the downstairs landing, and he offers the merman a smile in greeting. Then, he turns back to Johnny and scolds him before he can add some sort of green leaf to the batter, saying, “I said Newt’s Eye, Johnny!”

Jisung doesn’t know what they’re doing at such hour, or what the potion is for, and he doesn’t ask either. He goes about his business, downs a glass of water and washes the vase quickly before returning to his room, settling for stargazing from their own window.

On another occasion, he runs into Donghyuck and Mark bickering over a chalk drawing on the hardwood floor of their bedroom. Jisung came in looking for Mark per Taeil’s petition, knocking politely on the door and waiting for the signal to enter, and he heard the low murmur of their voices outside the door, yet he didn’t think he’d interrupt them in the middle of a ritual. Mark, perhaps not to freak Jisung out, got up immediately, blocked his sight from the pentagram, and stepped around the mess as quickly as he could. Jisung doesn’t speak much, and he spends most of his time with Chenle or locked away in his room, yet Mark seems to read him easily and knows Jisung is squeamish around dark magic.

Strange things are a common given in this house, Jisung learns. It doesn’t stop at magic rituals or midnight meetings, but includes the wolves sneaking back at late hours and Renjun and Ten chasing some of their housemates while brandishing brushes in their hands like weapons. Jisung doesn’t know what that is about and doesn’t bother to ask, either. He’s just glad to know he is out of danger’s reach with them.

~

Jisung didn’t think the others liked him too much. He certainly couldn’t blame them, considering how unaccommodating he can be and how he runs away every time someone makes an effort to get to know him. So being taken care of by everyone when he gets sick is surprising.

Not more than a week after Jisung’s become an official member of the family, approximately two months since Kun brought him home, he falls ill. It starts early in the morning, Jisung kicks the overs off his body and stares at the roof of his bunk bed, feeling nauseated. There are black spots dancing in front of his eyes every time he blinks.

To his left, Jeno purrs deeply in slumber and above him the tips of Chenle’s wings hang over the edge of his bed, fluttering with every breath he takes. Jisung stays still, fights through the headache that builds behind his eyelids and does his best not to cry.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Jisung is capable of dragging his aching body out of bed and down the stairs. He doesn’t expect to find anyone else awake, given how it’s just after sunrise, but he finds Taeil standing by the breakfast bar, nursing what smells like tea while he leafs through the newspaper. Just the scent of the herbs is enough to have bile rise up Jisung’s throat.

Taeil is simultaneously one of the strangest and most normal members of the household. He has his quirks, such as wearing a hat indoors and drinking tea at every waking moment, but he’s also human and lacks the surprise factor that makes Jisung’s head spin when it comes to the others. There’s something sweet about his predictability and reliance, and he has some of the strongest nurturing instincts out of everyone else.

Jisung stands in the threshold to the kitchen for less than a minute before Taeil notices him. A greeting dies on the tip of his tongue as Taeil takes in the sweaty fringe on Jisung’s forehead and the paleness of his skin and he stands up immediately, rounds the breakfast bar to cup Jisung’s face gently in his hands. His skin is cool against Jisung’s heated frame and the merman doesn’t have the energy to recoil from the touch, grateful for the reprieve.

“You’re burning up,” Taeil tsks softly. “Let’s get you back into bed and then I’ll find some medicine for you.”

Taeil leads him upstairs with a hand on the small of his back to keep him steady. It is a miracle they don’t wake anyone else, but Jisung is grateful; he doesn’t want everyone to see him when he’s feeling so sick, so vulnerable.

He is tucked into bed with the utmost care. Jisung lays his head on the pillow and sighs, his joints aching already. This is only the third or fourth time Jisung has been sick in his life but the signs are all there. Taeil puts the back of his hand on Jisung’s forehead to check for his temperature and tuts, says, “I’ll get a thermometer, wait here.”

Taeil is gone for maybe five minutes. When he returns, he has a glass thermometer in one hand, a glass of water in the other, and the front pocket of his hoodie is bulging with what appears to be a small, square box. Neither Chenle nor Jeno stir at all. The entire ordeal is over with quickly, Jisung gulps down the pill as prompted and holds the thermometer under his tongue until Taeil takes it out. He has a fever, he is informed, and Taeil orders him to stay in bed until further notice.

“Do you think you’re up for eating something?” Taeil asks, quietly. “I could make you something light or bring you some crackers. You shouldn’t have taken those on an empty stomach.”

“Crackers would be nice,” Jisung murmurs. Taeil goes back downstairs and returns with a clear package of crackers that Jisung clearly recalls being in the pantry.

“You’ll feel drowsy from the medication, so don’t try to fight it,” Taeil says, running a hand through Jisung’s hair, “just go to sleep if you feel like you want to.”

Jisung eats half of the crackers before his eyes begin to slip closed on their own. The first time he wakes up, his roommates’ beds are empty and instead there is a brown wolf sleeping on the ground next to him. Jisung can recognize Jaemin immediately.

“Hyung?”

Jaemin awakens right away. Big, brown eyes peer at Jisung from the ground, and even in wolf form, Jisung can see the worry. Jisung doesn’t say anything but Jaemin still hops up on the bed and curls up next to him, like an oversized stuffed animal, his muzzle resting on Jisung’s sternum. It’s a comforting weight and warmth and it lulls Jisung back to dreamland before he can begin to wonder what time it is or where the others are.

The second time he wakes up, Jaemin is still there, but he’s in human form this time, and Jisung is the one laying his head on Jaemin’s chest. Jisung wants to feel embarrassed, he probably would if he was in a better state, but he can only feel a sort of relief that he isn’t alone.

“Taeil hyung says you should drink this,” Jaemin says, handing over a pill. “It’s been more than six hours since the last one. At least your fever has gone down,” he adds. “I was also told to tell you that you should take a shower as soon as you feel better.”

“Tired,” Jisung mumbles in response. Jaemin’s fingers are tangled in his hair, running soothingly over his scalp. “Good night, hyung.”

Jaemin chuckles. “Good night, Jisung.”

The third time he wakes up, Jaemin is gone, his roommates are still gone, and instead Johnny is at the foot of Jisung’s bed, his back leaning on the wall and his attention focused on his phone.

“Are you feeling any better?” Johnny pockets his phone when he realises Jisung is awake and his large hand goes to pet Jisung’s exposed ankle. The witch doctor’s touch is comforting, but it feels different to Jaemin’s. Jisung wants to ask where the wolf went to but is also afraid he will be misinterpreted.

Jisung groans as he sits up and imitates Johnny’s position. “Kind of. My head hurts,” he’s interrupted by a coughing fit that wrecks his body and leaves his throat feeling raw, “and my throat.”

“That sounded bad, we should take you to a doctor,” Johnny frowns. Jisung squeaks at the mention of a doctor, to which Johnny adds, “Obviously, we’d take you to someone we trust. I know a few part of the community but we’ll see if it comes down to that.”

“Is there always going to be someone here when I wake up?” Jisung asks. The headache only seems to go away when he’s sleeping.

Johnny nods with a small smile on his lips. “Yeah. But before you go back to sleep, drink this.”

Jisung is presented with a purplish, warm drink. Faint tendrils of smoke curl high above the cup and Jisung thinks he can smell blueberries and grapes, but he can’t be sure if it’s because they are actually part of the concoction or an illusion to mask the true ingredients. Either way, Jisung only thinks about it for a second before he tips his head back and downs the cup in two large gulps – he’s had Johnny’s potions before and knows better than to linger too much on the taste.

He has to go to the bathroom before he can comfortably sleep again. Johnny walks behind him to make sure he doesn’t faint, and then stands outside the door like a guard dog. What is possibly the most concerning thing of all is how much it hurts Jisung to pee, or how hot his urine feels coming out. He’s not sure it’s normal.

Johnny sucks his teeth worriedly when Jisung voices his thoughts. “It might be from the fever, honestly. If you don’t get better with the potion, I’ll drive you to the doctor.”

“How much time do I have to feel better?” Jisung is only half-joking when he asks. He doesn’t want to go to the doctor.

Johnny actually laughs. “It shouldn’t be more than a day. Come on, I’ll see if Jeno can watch over you now.”

Jisung goes through another handful of hours sleeping. His head hurts too much to stay awake and his chest hurts when he coughs, but at least when he’s asleep he can pretend like he is fine. Jeno takes care of him for a while, and then switches with Mark and then Jaehyun. Jisung thinks they are exaggerating, he can be alone and it would be perfectly fine, but he won’t deny it feels good to be looked after.

~

It is during a particularly bad fever that Jisung finally opens up to someone in the house about his past. Surprisingly, it’s Donghyuck whom he talks to.

The two are on Jisung’s bed, the merman sprawled on his back with arms and legs spread out in a poor attempt to cool off, while Donghyuck is more or less sitting upright against the wall by Jisung’s feet. Donghyuck’s attention is on a book on his lap, one that’s leather bound and has a lock to keep curious eyes from reading it. Jisung is sweating like a troll and the very last thing he wants right now is to be alive.

“I miss the sea.”

It’s just one sentence, one tiny statement, yet Donghyuck whips his head to look at him as if Jisung suddenly declared he wanted to become a stripper. No, that would actually be less shocking.

“There was this really cool cliff near where I was born,” Jisung continues, “and humans were always going there to jump. For fun, mostly, but a few went up to the highest parts for other reasons. I always liked to swim there because the water was cold and there weren’t many fishermen since the rocks were bad for their boats.”

Jisung rambles for several minutes about it. He talks in great detail of the riff, the fish that weren’t scared of merfolk, the hours he spent swimming in shallow waters that weren’t infested by humans. Donghyuck listens carefully, a smile playing on his lips because he can see it, he can see a younger of Jisung splashing around in the water of a beach or in the middle of the ocean, careless and young and free.

“I was always warned about trolls,” Jisung says, serious out of nowhere, “and that I should be careful around certain places. I listened, and I knew the danger was real, but I guess I never thought it would happen to me. It never seemed like something that would happen to you, you know? To someone else, maybe, but not you.

“I was on a rock when it happened. You know those big rocks that jut out of the water? Humans are always taking pictures there and I would always watch them and think it looked fun and some of the others would lounge there as well but only if it was someplace quiet or where humans didn’t go to. I chose a rock on an isolated beach and took a nap on it. When I woke up, I was chained up and trolls were throwing me on their ship. Did you know trolls can sail? I didn’t. They had a big ship, the sails were black and the floors were dirty. They kept us under, in cages, I wasn’t the only one.”

Jisung falls silent then. He wants to say more, yes, the words are building on his throat and nearly spilling out of his mouth, but the memories coming back to him are awful and unpleasant and he wants to avoid them. He doesn’t want to remember any of it but he also doesn’t want to keep all of that inside him. Donghyuck waits patiently, turns his eyes back on his book to give Jisung a sense of security, as if to say he can keep talking or pretend he never started at all. Donghyuck is okay with both.

“There was another mermaid on board,” Jisung finally says, “next to me. Her name was Chaeyoung. She was older than me, I think. One day, she disappeared. She just wasn’t there anymore. It scared the crap out of me, because I had no idea where she went, I still don’t know, and that was so much scarier than anything else I had seen on the ship.”

Jisung takes a deep breath before he continues. He’s starting to remember the little details, the things he’d kept under lock and key in the furthest corner of his mind, and he doesn’t like it. He can smell the ocean, the sweat of the trolls and their bad breath, can feel the roughness of the rope they used to keep him bound, and can hear them trudge up and down the ship while he and the other prisoners cowered in their cages. More importantly, he can feel as if he were still suffocating, enough water on his cage to keep him shifted but not enough to keep him alive, and he flopped around like a literal fish out of water for days.

“We docked somewhere,” Jisung says. His voice is nothing but a whisper and Donghyuck has to strain his ears just to catch what he’s saying. “I don’t know where we were. They unloaded us one by one and I was one of the last. We were on some sort of island off shore and there wasn’t anything around that I could see. There were a lot of palm trees,” he muses, almost as if he’s discussing the weather, “and coconut trees. It was almost tropical but I know we were still near Korea. I could feel it.”

The air was fresh, there. Jisung had taken in a lungful of breath after another the second he had the chance, eager to rid his lungs of the awful stench of the ship. “They were going to auction us. Sell us to the higher bidder. They kept us – the merchandise – towards the back and took everyone at a time. I could still hear them, hear the offers, and I remember being so angry that they would sell living beings for stupid shit like peals and diamonds. But those were trolls; it’s what they do, that’s what they like. They like shiny things. They wanted my tail,” Jisung chokes up, “they wanted it for themselves. That’s when Kun showed up. I saw him circling overhead and I thought he was going to buy someone as well, but he just grabbed my cage and took off.”

Donghyuck knows the rest of the story. He was one of the few home when Kun arrived, lugging a cage by his toenails and dropped it on their front lawn. Donghyuck helped break the magical locks while Mark prepared something to sooth Jisung, who was trashing and biting at anyone who came near him. It took three separate pairs of hands to hold him down and make him drink the potion, and afterwards they took him to the lake near the treeline so he could breathe easier. Everyone apologized for it later, when he was more lucid and aware, but it took Jisung a long time to accept it. He gets it, now, and he doesn’t hold a grudge for it.

“I don’t know where my family is,” Jisung sighs. “A part of me wants to know, wants to go look for them. But the bigger part of me is happy here. I don’t want to lose what I have with you all.”

“Oh, Jisung,” Donghyuck coos. He deems it safe enough to do so. “We love you too. I’d hug you but I don’t want your germs all over me.”

Jisung snorts. It hurts and he immediately groans and covers his face with his hands. He whines and flaps Donghyuck’s worried hands away. “I think you’ll have to remove my nose,” Jisung says.

“That fever is doing wonders to your brain, ain’t it?” Donghyuck laughs.

“Shut up.”

~

Jisung has seen plenty of strange things in the house. One of such happens when he is finally healthy enough to leave the room and he runs into Yukhei and Jaemin, fully shifted and napping outside his bedroom door. They are curled around each other, Yukhei’s yellow fur a contrast against Jaemin’s pelt, and Jisung is reminded of the ying and yang.

Donghyuck pauses behind him as Jisung halts. Jisung can feel the witch peering over his shoulder before he hears him stifle a laugh. “Your guard dogs are doing a shitty job,” he says. Jisung would love to tell him they aren’t his guard dogs, except they kinda look like they are. Instead, he says, “Don’t be mean.”

Donghyuck side-eyes him while stepping around the mess on the floor. “Sure,” he says, much too cryptically in Jisung’s opinion. “I’ll go tell the hyungs they can stop moping, you’re fine now. Go take a shower and meet me downstairs.”

Jisung does as he’s told. His clothes are already bundled up in his arms and he only has to step over the two overgrown puppies on the ground to reach the bathroom. Since he’ll get wet, and therefore his tail will make an appearance, Jisung always bathes instead of showering. It’s a lot easier like that, and he likes the bubbles. Often, he’ll get distracted and spend excessively much time in the bathroom, until some of the others who share it go pounding on the door, but this time he goes about his business as quickly as he can.

Downstairs, as promised, Donghyuck is waiting for him. There is a bowl of pasta in front of him with Jisung’s name written all over it. He hadn’t realised how hungry he really was – or the time, as the clock on the hallway ticks its way to midnight. Jisung eats quickly, makes small talk with Donghyuck while the older boy sneaks bites of Jisung’s pasta and grins every time Jisung makes a show of pushing the plate away from him.

Later, Jisung takes his bowl to the kitchen and finds yet another rare sight, although this one is a lot warmer than the ones he is used to. Kun and Taeil are sitting on the small, round table by the far corner of the kitchen, the one that barely holds two people and is reserved for the flower vase. It isn’t strange to see them together, but Jisung still feels he is intruding on something.

They either don’t notice he’s there or don’t mind his presence. Kun is drawing something on a piece of paper, Taeil leaning over the short distance to look at it, and Jisung thinks they are sitting oddly close, certainly closer than necessary. He is quiet like a mouse as he puts the bowl on the sink and backtracks, his eyes never leaving the scene.

Jisung can’t quite put his finger on it, but it feels intimate. He exits the kitchen as quietly as he entered, dragging Donghyuck away before the boy can go in and interrupt them; he knows Donghyuck would make a big deal out of it and he has the feeling neither Kun nor Taeil would appreciate it.

Someone changes his bedding while he’s gone. The sheets and blanket smell clean and the room no longer feels heavy. Jeno and Chenle are in bed already, Jeno snoring peacefully into his pillow while Chenle scrolls through his phone. Donghyuck makes kissy faces to Jeno’s sleeping form and flips Chenle off when the fairy laughs at him.

“Good night, hyung,” Jisung says pointedly. Donghyuck feigns to be insulted for all of two seconds before he walks out of the room and shakes the two slumbering dogs outside awake. Jisung isn’t surprised they were still on the floor. Stranger things have happened to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to post this days ago sksksk sorry about the long wait


	10. i don't need no past (just one right moment)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends it is i back with some incubus jungwoo to please the masses

_August 8th, 2019_

Sundays are for lazy mornings. This is the one rule Jungwoo has stuck by his life as incubus, in spite of him not necessarily needing the rest. No one ever gets him out of bed before noon on a Sunday, not even Johnny and Jaehyun’s combined efforts. There’s just something about Sundays that make Jungwoo pliant, lose all the rush and just want to lie in bed and roll around in the sheets for hours.

Yuta gets it, is probably the one who understands it the most out of everyone else. This is why Jungwoo lets him and only him sleep with him on Saturdays, because the next morning Yuta won’t even try to make him move. Mostly, they just leech body heat off each other and snooze for hours until Taeyong or Jaehyun make them go downstairs to eat.

“What the hell is that noise?”

Unless the sirens of hell are going off in the downstairs floor, in which case Jungwoo doesn’t get his extra hours of sleep that he so rightfully deserve. The hooligans he calls housemates are lucky he loves them.

Yuta groans, rolls over and drags Jungwoo with him to the edge of the bed. They don’t fall off if only because Jungwoo hooks his hand between the headboard and the mattress. “Please don’t throw me off the bed. I rather like all the blood in my head.”

“Sorry,” Yuta laughs. The wolf shifts his hold on Jungwoo and manoeuvres the two to lie in the middle of the bed more comfortably, and Jungwoo relaxes his grip on the edge of the mattress. “That sounded like Jaemin found Hansol’s hiding spot for the candies and went bat shit crazy overnight.”

“That sounds like something I would love to see,” Jungwoo says, “but unfortunately Jungwoo isn’t alive at the moment.”

Yuta laughs again. It resonates through his chest and right through Jungwoo. Jungwoo’s cheeks warm, but at what he doesn’t know. “Are you tired?” Yuta asks, one hand coming up to run through Jungwoo’s hair affectionately. Jungwoo hums, the touch lulling him to a half-asleep state even as Yuta keeps talking. His fingers rub at the base of his horns and Jungwoo downright purrs at the sensation. “It’s still early; we could sleep in a little more.”

“Do you think there’s any way we could sneak downstairs, grab something to eat and run back in here before anyone notices?” Jungwoo asks. He was moved to a spare room that previously worked as a studio for the kids but was left untouched after a while, and it’s become a sanctuary of sorts because it’s the only safe place to hide from all the noise and the ruckus of the house. Jungwoo adores everyone, there’s no doubt about that, but they can be too much at times and he needs a reprieve. The bedroom isn’t big by any means, but it’s enough for him.

“I don’t think there’s a chance we can step out of the room without someone noticing.”

“Ugh,” Jungwoo scowls. “I’m starving but I don’t want to deal with everything.”

Jungwoo counts his blessings that Yuta _gets_ him and doesn’t give him shit for saying things like that. “I could try going into my room and fetch the bag of chips we’re hiding from Jaem.”

“No, that’s alright, that’s between you, your husband and your kid to figure out.”

Yuta kicks him lightly. Jungwoo laughs and pecks his cheek, says, “I say that in the nicest way possible.”

“I can’t believe you’re being so mean to me even after I offered to share my cheese chips with you,” Yuta huffs. Jungwoo rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders the best he can to show he doesn’t care. Yuta’s mating bite glows when Jungwoo traces it with his index finger and Yuta makes a pleased sound. “Hansol says he always knows it’s you the one touching it,” Yuta says.

Before Jungwoo can feel mortified about that, Yuta continues, “I told him you’re the only one who touches it other than Ten. You’re the only one who dares,” Yuta laughs lightly.

“Sorry,” Jungwoo apologizes sheepishly. He’s pretty sure it’s against the rules to touch a wolf’s mating bite.

“Don’t be,” Yuta denies with his head. “I like it. Your fingers are always soft and you, I don’t know, you just look nice when you do it. Like you’re fascinated.”

There’s more than a mere permission there, but Jungwoo is happy to let it slide. They don’t need to make a big deal out of it.

~

It isn’t until hours later they finally roll out of bed. The clock is nearing one in the afternoon when Jungwoo ventures out of his room and finds himself in the middle of the sinking scene in Titanic – you know the one, with everyone running around, their suitcases held above their heads, the band playing as the ship fills with water.

Ten, unsurprisingly enough, seems to be responsible for the chaos. He is standing at the balcony overlooking the entrance hall and barking orders at everyone. Most of the guys are lugging furniture around, moving the couches and chairs to different areas of the house, while the kids chase each other with string paper and party hats on their heads.

“Did I miss something?” Jungwoo asks no one in particular.

Taeil stops on his tracks, an armful of silver platter in hands, to say, “Ten woke up this morning and decided a party was the best way to celebrate the house’s anniversary. Save yourself.”

“Jungwoo!” Ten shouts suddenly. “Just in time! Babe, come over here, I have a task for you.”

There’s just the tiniest bit of dread in Jungwoo’s tummy as he climbs the staircase to reach Ten. The pixy is still dressed in his pyjamas and his hair is a bit of a mess, but his eyes are glinting with absolute joy, like he’s enjoying himself greatly. Yuta, whom left the bedroom minutes before Jungwoo to take a shower, passes by them disgruntledly while dragging a large chest behind him.

“How did you sleep?” Ten asks, sugary sweet. It’s that tone of voice he uses when he wants something from someone – namely Johnny, but it works on most of them if they aren’t careful.

Jungwoo allows himself to smile in spite of his impending doom. “I slept well, thank you. What did you need from me?”

“Invitations.” Ten doesn’t beat around the bush about things he’s passionate about, and this certainly seems like something he cares about greatly. “I already have them prepared in my room and the addresses are on my phonebook. I need you to print them and take them to the post office to send them out.”

“Do you think everyone will make it in time? So last minute?” Jungwoo asks, more out of curiosity than genuine concern.

Ten beams at him. “Of course they will! Everyone still lives in the area _and_ they’re supernaturals, how could they possibly not come? Besides, we aren’t inviting everyone, just the bigger covens. A lot of the people who came through these doors have left the country or at least the city a long time ago.”

Jungwoo can’t argue with that logic, now, can he? He simply tips his head in a salute before he turns on his heel and takes off in the direction of Ten’s bedroom.

As far as Jungwoo knows, Ten used to room with Renjun the first few weeks they lived in the house, then moved out to sleep in Yuta and Hansol’s. That is where Jungwoo heads to now, ducking his head to avoid losing it entirely by the table Hansol and Jaehyun are carrying downstairs. Jungwoo doesn’t understand just what in the hell Ten is planning for tonight.

The bedroom looks like any other bedroom in the house. Jungwoo doesn’t have any problem finding Ten’s laptop, tossed on the bed, and the invitations are there when the screen turns on. The bed smells like Ten’s cologne and Hansol’s shampoo the most, because Yuta has spent the past few days with Jungwoo, but there’s still a whiff of him that Jungwoo probably wouldn’t have caught if he were human. Jungwoo takes the laptop in his hands and moves it to the desk by the window, where he can easily hook it up to the printer.

Jungwoo makes quick work of printing the invitations, and then locates the address book under Ten’s sleep hoodie. The addresses he wants are highlighted in green and there’s a fresh note scribbled to the side that reads: _send them here!!_

There is a post office not far from the property. Jungwoo takes his car keys and ducks into the garage before Ten can get any other ideas for him. He also actively avoids looking at Renjun’s puppy eyes begging him to take him along because the pixy is under strict orders to keep the other kids in line – as per Ten’s words – and Jungwoo doesn’t want to get on his bad side.

It isn’t much longer when Jungwoo is scribbling down the addresses on the printed invitations, handing them to the clerk as he goes for them to be mailed. He takes note of the names he sees on the address book, more curious than earlier now to see who they are.

_Lee Sangyeon, Choi Seungcheol, Kim Youngjae, Park Jisoo, Bang Chan, Bae Joohyun, Kim Junmyeon, Jo Haseul and Kang Daniel_

~

Jungwoo will admit - the house looks great by the time night rolls around. It’s decorated tastefully, with candles on the tables and shelves to set the mood. Jungwoo discovers that so much furniture was being shifted because Ten wanted the party to take place for the most part on the backyard, and now the chairs, tables and loungers are on the lawn, accompanied by paper lamps Jungwoo has never seen before and low coffee tables to hold the drinks and snacks.

When Jungwoo returned from the post office, he found Taeyong, Doyoung, Kun and Yuta slaving away in the kitchen, with Jaemin and Jeno on dessert duty and Mark and Renjun sent away to a mall to buy the drinks and snacks. Donghyuck, to his chagrin, was put on decorating duty and he complained loudly of such, but Jisung stuffed a cracker in his mouth and the witch promptly shut up.

Now, the kids and Jungwoo are on the top floor of the house, huddled around a round window that overlooks the front yard in hopes of getting a glimpse of the guests before someone inevitably comes drag them downstairs. Jisung and Chenle cramped themselves into the window seat, while the others crowd around them. The window isn’t big enough for all of them to see through it, which leaves them to scuffle and peek through strands of hair more often than not.

“Oh, look!” Renjun points excitedly. “That’s Jinyoung! Jaem, look, they’re all here!”

Jaemin elbows his way to the front of the pack to look at whomever Renjun is referring to. His face lights up at the sight of them, for sure. “Look, Hyunjin and Felix!”

“Hyunjin was in Doyoung and Taeyong’s clan,” Renjun says to the rest. “They lived here for a while after he accidentally turned Felix during a feeding gone wrong.”

“Didn’t you have a crush on Hyunjin?” Jaemin asks, his eyes screaming trouble.

Renjun, without as much as turning around, says, “You had the fattest crush on Tzuyu and wrote emo love songs about her even after she left.”

“Oh, God, Sehun hyung is here,” Jaemin says. He doesn’t offer a response to Renjun. “I don’t have time to pretend I didn’t embarrass myself in front of him every waking second of his stay.”

“Uh, do we get to hear more about Jaemin’s emo phase or nah?” Donghyuck asks. Renjun promises to show him the lyrics later with a smile. Jaemin pinches his arm in retaliation.

“Cool, Chaewon and Hyejoo are here, too,” Renjun points out.

“That’s a lot of people,” Jisung says. It doesn’t take a genius to tell he’s feeling overwhelmed.

Jaemin leaves his place by the window to reach out to Jisung, taking the merman’s hand in his. “Don’t worry, you can just stick to me and I’ll introduce you to the less rowdy ones.”

An hour later, Jungwoo finds himself in the backyard of the house, surrounded by strangers and feeling completely out of his depth. He’s nursing a drink Jaehyun pushed into his hands when he stepped foot into the living area, watching everyone else interact.

At least he’s not the only one ready to run as far as his legs will carry him.

Jisung scurried away the second he got the chance. Jungwoo thinks he saw him sneak into the basement, where the rec room is, but if anyone asks, Jungwoo has no idea where he is. Chenle, despite being quite friendly on a daily basis, doesn’t seem to be enjoying himself too much, either. He’s sitting on the deck with a brunet boy, whose name Jungwoo isn’t familiar with, and hasn’t made the effort to talk to anyone else.

Jungwoo half wants to join the party, talk to the guests like his friends – are they still friends? Jungwoo isn’t sure where he stands with any of the older guys, but that’s a headache for another day – are doing, really enjoy himself. But the other half of him wants to go back to his room and hide under the covers until this is all over. He fantasizes about it for a few minutes, actually: he’s sure Johnny or Kun would be the firsts to notice he’s gone and they’d go check on him; Johnny always lets him curl on his lap, being one of the very few in the house taller than him, and pets his hair, right around the bottom of his horns, until Jungwoo is sleepy. It’s a nice fantasy, but Jungwoo knows it’s unrealistic. Johnny and Kun would never leave their own party unattended.

It’s then Jungwoo has the realisation that this is his party, too. He’s been living in this house for almost a year; he’s a permanent resident, he’s in – some kind of – a relationship with the boys and he helped in the planning. So if he leaves the party like that, it wouldn’t look very good. And the idea of potentially disappointing any of them, combined with the possibility of looking bad in front of the people his _partners_ consider their friends, is enough to make him loosen up. Not much, his shoulders are still tense and his hands shake ever so slightly, but he plasters a smile on his face and makes his way to where Doyoung is.

As the night progresses, Jungwoo loses some of his shyness. He manages to hold small talk with several people, always in the presence of some of the other boys or one of the kids, and eventually he even keeps talking with someone – her name’s Sana, she’s a mermaid and her pink hair allegedly matches the colour of her scales – long after his companion is gone. She came with her mermaid friends, the only human a marine biology major named Nayeon, and as it turns out one of the mermaids is Chaeyoung, the girl on the ship with Jisung when he was kidnapped.

Jungwoo learns a lot tonight. A few of the guests ask him about his species, curious about the horns on his head, and he shares as much as he feels comfortable to. No one pushes beyond what he offers and Jungwoo does the same in return.

He speaks to a wolf shifter named Mingyu for almost an hour. There’s something very charming and endearing about him, in the clumsiness of his long limbs and the wide, unrestrained smile on his face, and Jungwoo feels at ease talking to him. Jungwoo learns he comes from a pack, where only three others are wolves like him and the others are a combination of seers, demons, vampires, mermen and a human. Mingyu was born in a supernatural community and had the privilege of knowing his true identity from the very start of his life, unlike many shifters and witches that don’t have the same opportunity.

Later, Jungwoo talks to another one of Jaehyun’s friends, a sweet guy named Yugyeom. He’s a witch, like Jaehyun, and they met through some mutual friends. Yugyeom, as it turns out, is also Kun’s co-worker at the bakery in the city. “Kun always lets me sneak leftover pastries home, he’s a good man,” Yugyeom says to him with a smile on his face. Jungwoo tells him that’s a very good way to sum up Kun’s personality.

Minho, a wolf, never lived in the house but is in the same pack (“The vamps would call it a clan, but don’t let that fool you, we’re a pack”) as Hyunjin and Felix, two vampires who did live here in 2015. And, as it turns out, his pack-mate Woojin works with Kun as well, and Changbin went to school with Mark before the young witch ran away from the orphanage. Their reunion was rather funny, if you ask Jungwoo.

The “Sehun” Jaemin so dreaded meeting turns out to be a werewolf friends with Johnny. He’s tall, handsome and has the smile of a child, and Jungwoo likes him immediately. He, along with his mate, lived in the house for a short while until Johnny hooked them up with a witch he met in the community named Junmyeon and they moved with his coven. And, afterwards, some of the other members of his coven came to the house as well, until Johnny worked his matchmaking magic on them, too.

Jinsol is a witch. The most prominent aspect in her is her blue eye, which she claims is the centre of her power. “There are only three of us in our house,” she says, absentmindedly playing with the cheese fingers on her plate, “And we each have coloured eyes. We still haven’t figured out why, but at least it looks good, right?” Jungwoo tells her it makes her look distinguished and she smiles bashfully.

Overall, Jungwoo feels pretty good about himself when the party is over. He did more socialising in one night than he’s done in a long time, and there’s no doubt he’s emotionally exhausted, yet he still goes to bed with a smile on his face.

~

Of everyone else in the house, Jungwoo thinks he likes Jaehyun the most.

It isn’t a matter of favouritism, per se. He loves everyone equally, just differently, from the kids to the adults… Okay, maybe he loves the adults just a tiny bit more. But don’t say that to anyone. He definitely has a softer spot for the kids; them being the ones he met first and the reason he’s here and has a home at all.

It doesn’t matter which of the guys it is, they all make his heart beat faster and his throat feel drier, reactions some of them seem to be aware of if their knowing smiles are anything to go by. There’s just something about Jaehyun that makes Jungwoo feel butterflies in his stomach with a single look or brush of skin against skin. Maybe it’s the dimples.

Regardless of what the reason is for it, Jungwoo reacts differently to Jaehyun. Which is why, when Jaehyun innocently asks him about what he did before meeting the kids, Jungwoo doesn’t run away and, instead, tells him.

They’re in Jungwoo’s bedroom. It’s late at night, nearing midnight, days after the party. The window to the right of the bed is open and the night air is chilly on Jungwoo’s skin, but he can’t be bothered to get up and close it. Jaehyun absolutely refused to move from his cocoon of blankets and the warmth of Jungwoo, so there’s that. Jungwoo guesses they’ll just freeze to death tonight.

“What do you want to know?” Jungwoo says, resigned. There’s still that nag in the back of his head that’s saying he should stay quiet, but Jaehyun’s eyes are earnest and honest and curious and dammit Jungwoo can’t you grow some balls?

“What do you want to tell me?” Jaehyun shoots back. He’s not pushing his agenda on Jungwoo and, rather, he’s allowing him to move at his own pace.

Jungwoo thinks hard about his answer. There are many things he could say, if he’s being honest. He’s had a long existence, there are definitely plenty of stories to choose from and some of them might even be entertaining.

“Do you know how incubi are born?” Jungwoo asks.

Jaehyun makes a negative sound. “Well, most are born from souls sent to Hell,” Jungwoo starts, “while others are simply created in Hell. I’m the first kind. I don’t remember my first life so I don’t know why I would go to Hell in the first place, and I’d rather not think about it.”

That’s a lie. Jungwoo has thought about it a lot, for the longest time, and he’s terrified to find out whatever he did that was so terrible he was condemned to eternal damnation.

“The first time I came to Earth, it was around 1879. Actually, that makes me the oldest person in the house,” he hums. “Either way, Earth was strange back then. Everything was foreign to me and that makes me think I must have been human a very long time ago.”

Jaehyun, curled on his side and staring at Jungwoo like a child being read a night time story to, says, “Old man,” with a shit eating grin on his face. Jungwoo flicks him on the forehead.

“Either way,” Jungwoo says pointedly, “It is my understanding that incubi take a long time to be born. Created. Whatever. The point is it must have been a handful of hundred years between my death and rebirth. Uh, I was a shitty demon at first,” he laughs awkwardly, “I hated luring people and I hated feeding from them. I would go weeks without feeding but that turned out to be even worse. I would be sluggish and cranky and I just felt like shit all the time.”

“What did you do?” Jaehyun asks him.

Jungwoo shrugs. “Slept with humans. Most of them survived, after I had some practice. It wasn’t until a century later I learned that I can feed just fine from physical touch that isn’t necessarily sexual. Like this,” he adds, referring to the faint glow that comes off their bodies where their skin is touching. “It doesn’t work as well as sex but it keeps me alive and gives me enough energy to get through the day.”

“You know, we _could _have sex,” Jaehyun says, like it isn’t a big deal at all, just your everyday conversational topic. “I’ve been wondering why you haven’t tried that with any of us.”__

__“It’s complicated,” Jungwoo murmurs. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation._ _

__“I’m a fast leaner,” Jaehyun replies. Once again, he’s pushing, but he’s not being overbearing, a nonverbal opportunity to forget this entire thing ever happened._ _

__Perhaps it would be good for him to let it out, Jungwoo muses. It’s always good therapy to let things off your chest, and it’s Jaehyun. Once more, there’s the chance he’ll completely blow this and Jaehyun will never want to speak to him again, even if it’s far off and exaggerated by Jungwoo’s greatest fears. He’s self-aware like that._ _

__In the end, there’s nothing Jungwoo can do when faced with Jaehyun’s big eyes but agree to every single one of his whims._ _

__“I do want to,” Jungwoo starts, “have sex with you, I mean. You and the others. But I’m worried.”_ _

__“Why? What’s stopping you?”_ _

__“I don’t know,” Jungwoo groans. “The idea of hurting any of you. I can’t help but feed during sex, it’s like trying not to chew when you’re eating. Bad analogy but you understand my point,” Jungwoo laughs softly. Then he sobers up and continues, “It kills me just to think about harming you. You have no idea how hard it is for me to push Yukhei away every time he tries to go further and it’s devastating to know that he thinks I don’t want him. I mean, holding back with the rest is hard enough but,” Jungwoo trails off, trying to find the words to explain what he wants to say._ _

__“I get it,” Jaehyun nods, rearranging the pillows beneath his head to sit up straighter. “Yukhei doesn’t understand how we do. He grew up on the streets; it’s understandable he’s still learning about everything. But you should really tell him how you feel, Woo, before the misunderstanding grows so big you can’t fix it.”_ _

__“I know.” Jungwoo doesn’t look at Jaehyun as he agrees. “I guess that’s it.”_ _

__Jaehyun stays silent for several minutes. Jungwoo can tell he’s thinking about what Jungwoo just confessed to him before he decides on what he will respond, just how he always does. Jaehyun is like that – thoughtful, considerate, thinks before he speaks. Jungwoo loves him so much he feels his chest might give out._ _

__“How about you start slow?” Jaehyun suggests kindly. “Before you go all the way, try other things, like foreplay. And if it makes you feel better, do it with the immortal ones first, just to be safe. You can’t exactly steal a vampire’s life force, now, can you?” Jaehyun smiles cheekily._ _

__Jungwoo flushes at the mere thought. He has to admit he’s had – far too many – thoughts about Doyoung and Taeyong alike, some more chaste and innocent than the others. And Jungwoo knows exactly what Jaehyun is suggesting, the type of intimacy he could try first, and it makes his heart race._ _

__“Oh my God, you’re blushing!” Jaehyun coos. “You’re so cute, Woo, I swear.”_ _

__“Shut up.” Jungwoo swats him away._ _

__“And if the idea of a naked Taeyong is too much for you, there’s always Kun and Sicheng,” Jaehyun continues, as if he isn’t causing Jungwoo all sorts of pain with every word he utters. “Kun, particularly, is perfect for this kind of thing. He’s patient and sweet, you could ask him.”_ _

__“You’re going to give me a heart attack,” Jungwoo mutters, hiding his flaming face behind his hands._ _

__Jaehyun laughs again, less scandalous than before, and pries at his hands until they fall limp to the bed. Jungwoo avoids the witch’s eyes as best as he can, but he’s weak to Jaehyun and the bastard knows it._ _

__“If you’re still too flustered,” Jaehyun says, his voice somehow dropping an octave or two as he stares at Jungwoo’s lips, “I have a pretty strong aura. You don’t have to be too gentle with me.”_ _

__“You’ll be the dead of me instead of the other way around,” Jungwoo hisses. Jaehyun smiles, pleased with himself and impossibly handsome, and Jungwoo kisses him before he can get any more ideas to threaten his sanity._ _


	11. down by the highway side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "me and the devil" by soap&skin
> 
> i'm gonna be honest here, i'm more nervous about this chapter than i have been for any other installment of the au because it revolves around yangyang, dejun and kunhang and i'm terrified i missed the mark on their characterisation given that it is my first time to write about them, and i also feel like I focused too much on yangyang and left the other two out a bit? feedback on this particular chapter would be much appreciated :((

_September, 2019_

There’s really no way of knowing how the two of them will react. Yangyang isn’t too perturbed by the dragons at his back, especially because he knows he isn’t in danger around them, and so his mind is hyper-focused on the conversation that lies ahead of him. In particular, he’s thinking of the puppy eyes and pout he will have to bust out to convince them to listen to him. Kunhang will be easier, he knows, because the boy is always willing to hear everyone out, but Dejun’s protective streak combined with his wariness towards strangers might play against Yangyang this time.

They are only a handful of blocks away from the rundown building he and his partners are living in, but Yangyang isn’t stupid enough to take the short walk, so he takes unnecessary turns and twists, just to keep Kun and Sicheng off their track. They haven’t been on Earth for long, yet Yangyang is by now used to the way things work and, in spite of his love for humanity, he can’t very well avoid being scared or, at the very least, cautious. Regardless of how safe he feels around them, or how much he trusts them, he has learned his lesson.

The stench of trash is the first thing to greet Yangyang in their building. He can feel his own face heat up in embarrassment, but a quick glance behind shows him the dragons are completely unaffected by it. Either that or they’re good actors. They take the – rackety – elevator up to the fourth floor, Kun and Sicheng framing Yangyang on either side.

Kunhang’s voice is loud and clear before they reach the door. Yangyang strains his ears to discern whatever it is he might be saying as he fumbles with his keys to open the door, twisting the doorknob as he turns the key in order for the lock to slide. So far, he’s the only one that has mastered the trick.

“You can leave your shoes here,” Yangyang tells the dragons quietly, already slipping off his sneakers. “Don’t worry about your socks, Dejun and I keep this place pristine clean.”

The floors are, in fact, squeaky clean, the tiles a polished white. Dejun insists on buying the good cleaning products and Yangyang sometimes gest restless enough to feel the energy to clean their apartment from head to toe. Yangyang hangs the keys on the loop above the coat hanger and leads Kun and Sicheng further inside, down the hall and then to the right where the living room is located. Well, the living room and the dining room and the kitchen – the landlord called it open space concept. Yangyang calls it a two space apartment. At least the bedroom and bathroom are separate from each other and the rest of the apartment.

“Yangyang!” Kunhang shouts upon seeing him. Yangyang can’t help the smile that breaks across his face and his nerves simmer down. “Who are your friends?”

Trust Kunhang to greet total strangers with a kind smile and a wave. Yangyang motions the two dragons forward and jerks a thumb in their direction, says, “These are Sicheng and Kun. I mentioned I met someone at the grocery store some time ago, right? This is them. Is Dejun home?”

“Here.” Dejun exits the kitchen with a rag towel thrown over his shoulder and his forehead covered in sweat. “Kunhang sucks at helping around here and I’m banning him from dessert until further notice.”

“I like this one,” Kun says to Sicheng, not so subtly. Sicheng rolls his eyes in response.

Dejun seems to take notice of the two strange men standing in his living room, and his posture goes from relaxed to formal and near defensive in a nanosecond. “Hello. You’re Yangyang’s friends?”

“Yeah.” Kun, Sicheng and Yangyang look at each other in surprise. Yangyang thinks their synchronization was funny. “I’m Dejun. Nice to meet you.”

Yangyang expected Dejun to be apprehensive, but he certainly didn’t expect him to be so… curt. There isn’t even a hint of a smile on his face and it’s unsettling. Yangyang knows it’s most likely to do because the last time Yangyang introduced him to his friends they all ended up being kicked out of Heaven. So, perhaps Dejun has reason to be wary.

It’s not like Yangyang planned to befriend demons.

Thankfully, however, Kun and Sicheng appear nonplussed at Dejun’s less than enthusiastic greeting. They bow shortly, as is custom in the country they landed on, and offer pleasantries of their own. Yangyang invites the two dragons to take a seat on the couch they – somehow - found in good conditions and then… it’s just awkward. Painfully so.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Yangyang figures he should just try to get over it. It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid, he reasons with himself. Easier to let it out in the open than try to beat around the bush and waste everyone’s time. “But, uh, I wanted Kun and Sicheng to be here for it.”

“Ge,” Kun says gently. At Yangyang’s confused expression, he elaborates: “On Earth, some countries use formalities when addressing others. Since your nationality would be Chinese, if you consider your human name and the main language you speak, you should try to learn about Chinese formalities. Although, given that we are in Korea, you might feel more comfortable if you learn the Korean formalities first? It’s up to you, but we can help with that. In this case, Sicheng and I are both older than you, and we’re friends, so feel free to add a ‘ge’ after our names when you talk about us. Again, whatever you feel most comfortable with.”

How could anyone feel anything but comfortable around Kun? Yangyang has only known the dragon for two months and he’s willing to call him whatever he asks.

“Alright, thank you… ge,” he adds prudently. Kun nods in approval with a kind smile and, in turn, Yangyang smiles giddily. He didn’t know it would be so much fun to learn about humans further than what he learned in Heaven, and even more so, to learn how different things truly are on Earth than he thought. “As I was saying, I wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it?” Kunhang inquires. There isn’t quite concern in his voice, yet Yangyang can tell he’s prepared to face a tragedy. Dejun isn’t as forward in his worry, but Yangyang sees right through the tough façade he tries to sell.

Yangyang clears his throat and sits up straighter. “I know things haven’t been easy for us, here on Earth. And I know it’s my fault. I have a solution,” he rushes out, before either Kunhang or Dejun could even try to dissuade him from his guilt. “They have a solution, more like it. You see, they are part of a… supernatural community. There’s a house, here in Seoul. We are welcome to stay with them, provided we help with the chores or the payments. I’ve been to the house,” he admits quietly, expecting the surprised yelp Kunhang gives, “and it’s really nice. I haven’t met anyone yet, it was just Sicheng ge and I, but I think you’ll like it. I think we should give it a shot.”

Yangyang kept his eyes glued to his lap the whole time he spoke, too afraid of looking up at his partners. He’s not afraid of them, not ever, but he is worried that they will refuse vehemently to do this. And Yangyang really, _really_ wants to do this.

For starters, he wants this because it would mean more nights of sleep, rather than worry. It would mean that they could afford to drop one job each, and maybe start taking classes at that community college Kunhang has been eyeing for a while. It would mean better meals, Kun reassured him, because it doesn’t matter how much money they bring to the house, they’ll still eat and drink and sleep as much as everyone else.

“I mean, the kids are all in college, so they don’t have time to work, and there isn’t a problem with that,” Kun said to him, one evening, while they waited for the little green man to light up across the street. “Donghyuck started working with Johnny not so long ago but he uses all that money for himself and his friends. Jeno and Jaemin work, too, because Doyoung and Yuta got them the jobs and Chenle… I honestly have no idea where that kid gets his money from and it scares me sometimes.”

But the one thing Yangyang craves the most is the familiarity, the safety. He’s heard many wonderful stories from Kun and Sicheng alike and he’s itching to experience it on his own. He’s been happy with Dejun and Kunhang, of course, but he’s aware things could be better.

“Please, say something,” Yangyang pleads, after minutes of silence have gone by. He hates to feel like this. He feels small and scared and he’s squashing down every hope he has just so they aren’t crushed.

Kunhang is the first to speak. He’s sat across from Yangyang, on the green recliner he seems to love, and his hand reaches out to grasp Yangyang’s curled fist in a soothing manner. “I’d be more than happy to go, Yang,” he says kindly. Yangyang grins at him, his heart fluttering just so at the confirmation. Yet he still needs to know what Dejun thinks.

The oldest of the three angels is lost in thought - that much is clear. Yangyang can tell from the deep furrow of his eyebrows and the faraway look in his eyes. Yangyang sneaks a glance at the dragons and sees they’re both observing the three of them carefully, but not in a way that might make Yangyang uncomfortable. There is sheer curiosity in their faces, while Kun’s is more open than Sicheng’s.

Dejun’s voice, plain and tentative, breaks Yangyang’s trail of thought. “I would be willing to try.”

Yangyang’s smile nearly breaks his face.

~

“There’s a wolf on your yard?”

Sicheng hums. He raises his head from Yangyang’s backpack to look out the window and nods distractedly. “Oh, yeah, that’s Jaemin. Tonight is a full moon and Jaemin still has trouble keeping his cool so Hansol told him to stay shifted as long as possible.”

Yangyang makes a sound of understanding and doesn’t question further. Kunhang and Dejun are downstairs as they go over the house rules with Kun, while Yangyang was allotted in charge of unpacking their belongings in their temporary bedroom. Sicheng offered to help him while he explained the rules to him as well, but so far, they’ve only talked about a movie they watched and whether they would go out together over the weekend or not.

“The others have classes right now,” Sicheng continues, as he folds a pair of jeans into a neat little square, “but they should be home soon. You’ll like them, I think.”

“You think?” Yangyang teases. He stuffs the third pair of socks into the corner of the drawer and sweeps his gaze across the expanse of the room. He isn’t sure if he packed the baby blue sweater he likes and he’s capable of braving the trip back to the apartment at this hour just for it. “Are they cool?”

Sicheng snorts. “Well, I don’t know about _cool_ but…” he trails off. He finishes stashing Dejun’s yellow hoodie in the bottom drawer and smiles proudly at their handiwork. “They’re your age. Mark is a little older and Chenle and Jisung a little younger but everyone else is your age. Renjun is attending a community college for a theology degree, you two could talk about that?”

The sheer awkwardness of the statement has Yangyang barking out a laugh. He spies the sweater he was searching for and is quick to snatch it off the floor, dusting it off carefully as he says, “Yes, we could definitely talk about that.”

Sicheng visibly relaxes and he nods. “Good, okay, so. We should head back downstairs, I see Johnny’s car pulling up and you’ll want to meet him. He’s…. I guess he’s the boss around here.”

On cue, Yangyang’s nerves flare up. So far, with just the two dragons for company, he’s felt more at ease than he has in months, but now he has to face a figure of authority and he’s not sure how he feels about it. Nauseous seems to be a good start, however.

“Right,” Yangyang exhales shakily.

Sicheng’s green eyes flicker to his and Yangyang tries not to seem outwardly surprised at the sideways slits. The dragon reaches out and claps a hand on Yangyang’s shoulder in a comforting manner, squeezing gently before letting go. “Don’t worry too much, Johnny is harmless and he has a bleeding heart. He’s more than happy to meet you, trust me.”

Yangyang decides to take his word for it and follows Sicheng down the hall, down the stairs and back to the large living area, where a man that Yangyang assumes is Johnny is sat next to Kun. The wolf, Jaemin, is laid down at their feet, nipping at Johnny’s fingers in a surprisingly dog-like manner, Johnny’s face contorted in an expression of fond endearment. Dejun and Kunhang sit across from them on a three-seat leather couch, the middle spot left for him. Sicheng doesn’t hesitate to throw himself to the other two housemates, even if they are sitting on a loveseat undoubtedly made for two people. The fireplace is on and the fire crackles gently in the background.

“John, these are Yangyang, Dejun and Kunhang,” Kun introduces with a cheery smile.

Johnny smiles, equally amiable, and nods his head towards the three angels. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’d shake your hands, but,” he shows both hands, one of which is covered in wolf saliva and the other is engulfed in Sicheng’s own. Jaemin’s disgruntled grunt forces the slimy hand back down and the wolf happily resumes his chomping.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Dejun asks. His voice is more hesitant than Yangyang is used to hearing it, but he can tell the boy is making an effort to come off as friendly as he is.

Johnny’s laugh is easy going. “Not at all! Jaemin knows better than to bite down again.”

Yangyang assumes there’s a story behind that _again_ but he doesn’t ask about it. Jaemin retreats then, standing on four paws and stretching out before landing on a staring contest with Kun. The eldest dragon represses a smile while locking eyes with the wolf. Eventually he cracks and gets up, saying, “We’ll go make dinner, why don’t you stay here and chat? Everyone else will be home soon.”

With that, he takes his leave, Jaemin trotting behind him. Yangyang sees his furry tail disappear as he goes upstairs and wonders what he might look like in human form. The living is plunged into silence for several seconds, until Sicheng breaks it with, “So, how about you three tell us about yourselves?”

Sicheng knows everything, Yangyang told him and Kun the entire thing on a particularly chilly night while crying over a coconut smoothie. He realises it would be for Johnny’s sake, more than anything, and he recalls what Sicheng said about Johnny being in charge.

Dejun has stiffened in his seat, shier and more kept to himself than the other two, while Kunhang shifts awkwardly on his spot. Yangyang guesses it will have to be him to tell their story, then.

“Um.” Yangyang clears his throat. “Okay, so. We were angels.”

He expected Johnny to appear surprised, but the man’s expression remains open, friendly and not taken aback in the slightest. A bit anticlimactic, if you ask Yangyang, but he won’t go around complaining there isn’t a big outburst.

“We weren’t, like, important or anything, we just worked administration. Dejun overlooked the Guardianship division while Kunhang and I were protocol. You know, received the new souls and everything.” Yangyang shrugs, slowly growing more and more uncomfortable to be reliving this tale again. “Uh, our falling was my fault, honestly. I got involved with some people I shouldn’t have, they covered for me, but then we were found out and we were thrown out.”

Yangyang doesn’t mention the friendships he made were the seven deadly sins. He didn’t say so to Kun or Sicheng either, mostly because he’s embarrassed out of his mind that he did that. There are other reasons for him to keep it a secret, of course, but the embarrassment is a big part of it.

The scars between his shoulder blades itch terribly every time he thinks about this, as if to mock him. As if to remind him of what he had and lost over his own foolishness.

Kunhang slips a hand into his in comfort, and Dejun’s shoulder knocks into his gently on his other side. They don’t lie to him or try to say he isn’t at fault, he knows he is, but they don’t blame him, and they won’t allow him to beat himself over it anymore. He’s suffered enough as it is and they know it.

“Well, we won’t be kicking you anywhere for making friends,” Johnny reassures him. And though his voice remains friendly and almost aloof, his eyes twinkle with the promise of security and backup. “Would you like to freshen up before dinner? It can be a little overwhelming around here at night and you could probably use the break before we introduce you to your new housemates.”

~

“You know, when Sicheng said we would be sharing a bathroom with half the floor, I thought it would be messier.”

Kunhang’s laugh rings out around the bedroom. The tips of Dejun’s hair are wet and the collar of his shirt is, too, and Yangyang has to tear his eyes away. “There are five bathrooms in the house,” Dejun continues, “for nineteen people. That’s about four people each. I’ve seen our bathroom and it’s a mess, this one… it looked too clean.”

“Are you getting suspicious over a bathroom?” Kunhang groans. Dejun glares at him and throws his damp towel at his face, Kunhang retaliating right away. “I showered before you did and didn’t see anything wrong with it.”

The bedroom is slowly growing darker as the day fades into night and the natural light disappears. Their bedroom has double French doors, leading out to a small balcony, decorated with a round table with a single lily in a flower vase, the doors open to let in as much air and light as they could. Yangyang reaches over and flips the light switch to allow them to see well, then closes the doors to keep the chilly night draft out.

“The room is nice,” Yangyang says softly. There is a bunk bed and a single bed on opposite sides of the room, two dressers and a closet, plus a desk to the side of the French doors. Yangyang supposes it would be more spacious if it weren’t meant to be shared among three, but it is still impressive how much it has been managed to be squeezed in. He suspects magic is at play. In fact, he’s certain magic has something to do with the do-ability of the space versus the comfort. “There’s room for the three of us.”

“I just wish one of the beds would be bigger,” Dejun admits. He’s probably the touchiest of the three, especially at night, and Yangyang will confess to having grown fond of sleeping on one bed. “But yes, the room is nice. The house is really nice.”

“The people are nice,” Kunhang pipes up.

Dejun stares at him. “You’ve met three of them.” Kunhang sticks his tongue out and chucks a stuffed dolphin at him.

“People are definitely home, now,” Yangyang says. There are two cars parked on the driveway, he’s seen more pull into the garage at the side of the house, and they can hear a cacophony of voices coming from all around them. Several pairs of footsteps have pounded past their door, the doors adjacent to theirs have opened and closed and laughter has rung out multiple times a minute, and Yangyang loves it. He can already feel the life in the house. The aura, in general, is unbelievably positive and vibrant and everything he had been hoping for.

Johnny comes fetch them not too long after they’re dressed and ready to go. “Just a fair warning, with so many people under one roof, I understand it can be overwhelming. Please, let me know if it’s too much or if you need anything and we’ll work something out.”

Yangyang feared to be the centre of attention once they reached the dining hall. However, conversation continues on even as they walk in, though the curious glances don’t go unnoticed. Johnny herds the three to the far side of the table, where the younger kids seem to be congregating, and introduces them with a flourish and a chirpy, “Be nice or else.”

A tanned boy gapes in offense after the man. “I’m always nice!” he cries out. Next to him, another boy snorts without looking up from his burger. “Fuck off, Jaemin.”

The table is littered with bowls and bowls of vegetables, grilled meat and buns, jars of sauce spread out and cutlery largely unused other than to prepare the burgers. Yangyang takes a seat in front of Jaemin and notices right away the words carved into the wood of the table, including the initials J+R circled by a heart and the word _dream_ not too far from it. As far as he can see, every few inches or so, there are names, initials and small drawings carved into the surface of the wooden table, giving it a perfect homey feel.

Jaemin offers the three angels a smile without answering his friend. “Hey. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself before, I wasn’t feeling too well. I’m Jaemin and this is Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck waves and then flips Jaemin off. Kun comes by to place three ceramic plates in front of them, says, “Feel free to eat anything you want and ask any of them if you need anything else. I’m right over there just in case,” and he’s gone before they can even thank him.

One by one, they introduce themselves to the angels, and they do the same in return. Chenle, a fairy with wings so beautiful it makes Yangyang’s heart ache in longing, offers to help Kunhang pick what he wants to go with his burger with a radiant smile; Dejun finds himself roped into conversation with a shifter named Yukhei and he laughs harder than Yangyang has heard him do in a while; and Yangyang, on his own, converses with Jaemin the entire time and feels right at home.

After dinner, Jaemin invites them to hang out with them in his room. Once there, Donghyuck slides a piece of paper, with the words _wanna go on an adventure_ scribbled on it with sparkly blue ink.

Yangyang doesn’t ask why they couldn’t say that aloud. He just shrugs and agrees, easy as that, and it isn’t like Dejun or Kunhang will stay behind. They wait until the house has gone quiet and Renjun gives them the thumbs up from his spot on the window, saying, “The vamps are gone. We’re good.”

They all sneak out to the backyard, so careful not to make a single sound that might alert anyone else of their presence. Yangyang feels giddy and giggly the whole trip and it worsens once they are outside and racing each other to the forest line. No one stops running until they are further into the foliage and confident they won’t be heard by their housemates. It’s silent for perhaps a second before Mark starts laughing, then everyone follows suit.

Chenle stretches his wings to their full size and gives a groan of satisfaction, Renjun following suit. Yangyang has to look away before the sight of their wings brings tears to his eyes and instead focuses on how Jaemin pokes Jisung’s cheeks and delights in his giggles.

“Why did we come to the forest?” Dejun asks. He seems genuinely curious.

Donghyuck smiles blindingly. “It’s an adventure! We do this often and at this point, they don’t even yell at us anymore.”

“The first time, we were grounded for two months,” Jeno tells them. “The second time, we were put on bathroom cleaning duty for two weeks. After the third, though, they just decided it wasn’t worth it.”

“Ten said we could get eaten by a bear and he wouldn’t care but I don’t buy it,” Renjun snorts.

“And besides, it isn’t like they can complain too much,” Jaemin points out. “That first adventure brought Jungwoo home.”

Yangyang met Jungwoo that night. He’s a demon, an incubus. He made the three angels uncomfortable for multiple reasons and they could tell he was wary around them, too, and Yangyang hopes it won’t be a problem. No one seemed to notice, though, or at least they didn’t comment on it.

“If they don’t mind, why do you sneak out?” Yangyang asks.

The boys all look at each other in contemplation. Finally, it’s Yukhei who replies, “It’s just more fun this way, I guess?”

“Should we try getting to the lake?” Jisung suggests. If Yangyang remembers correctly, he’s a merman, from what Sicheng and Kun have told him. Chenle voices his agreement right away and, the next second, he’s scooping Jisung up and taking off north, his wings flapping elegantly. Renjun absolutely refuses to carry anyone and flies away before they can insist.

One by one, they follow the pixy. Jeno and Donghyuck walk shoulder-to-shoulder and Jaemin races Yukhei, until Mark is left alone with the three angels. He smiles cheerily and says, his voice dripping with honesty, “Welcome to the family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one chapter left and this fic will be over!! can you guess who the seven sins are?


	12. mysterious and spooky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from the addams family them song 
> 
> well, here we are, the final chapter of midnight city! i gotta say, i love this chapter in particular so much, i love taeil and i love this universe so much, i really can't say this will be the last of the au because i highly doubt it

_September, 2019_

Taeil has always been an earlier riser than most.

As a child, he would be up and about before his parents were and head to their small kitchen to prepare toast and juice for himself, settling down on the living room to watch cartoons while he waited for the rest of his household to rise. As a teenager, he would start the coffee maker and prepare breakfast for him, his mom and dad, so his parents could catch a handful of minutes more of sleep.

Now, as an adult with a job and a family of his own, he remains the first to rise. He is typically awake right as the sun peeks over the horizon, wrestling out of whoever’s arms have him trapped in bed and making sure there is enough coffee for everyone in the house. Sometimes, if the clock strikes seven and no one else has ventured downstairs, he’ll start breakfast by himself and the smell will be enough to lure his family out of the comfort of their beds.

Today, Taeil begins his morning just like he does any other. The very first thing he is aware of is of the warm breath on the back of his neck and the arms curled tight around him, and the particular scent tells him it’s Sicheng who is using him as his own, personal blanket. He doesn’t recall the younger dragon coming into his room at night, so he must have done it after Taeil was asleep. Sicheng, as most everyone else seems to be, is a heavy sleeper, and he doesn’t stir while Taeil slithers out of his grip and leaves the bed. Johnny is still asleep on the other side of the bed and it doesn’t surprise Taeil to see Sicheng roll over to him, seeking his warmth. He leaves the two of them to keep each other company until they decide to return to the land of the living.

Taeil goes downstairs quietly, humming a tune to himself. The halls of the house are silent and slightly chilly already, some of the corners a little dusty because apparently not many can be trusted to clean properly. Taeil rolls his eyes at the cobwebs on the ceiling and makes a mental note to remind everyone that dusting is still a thing.

The kitchen floor is freezing under his socked feet. Taeil shudders and curses their decision to have ceramic tiles instead of hardwood flooring there as they do everywhere else in the house, hopping over to the thermostat to raise the temperature a bit. He turns around just in time to catch a glimpse of shocking blue hair duck into the lounge behind the kitchen. Forgoing his morning coffee, Taeil follows Jisung.

Jisung is crouched in front of one of the bookcases opposite to the bar, searching for something. A small fire is already set on the hearth and the room is decidedly warmer than the rest of the house. Taeil rasps his knuckles on the doorframe to make his presence known and smiles soothingly at the alarmed merman.

“Hyung,” Jisung breaths. “You scared me. I didn’t know you were awake.”

“I’m always awake before all of you,” Taeil reminds him. He steps further inside the lounge and sits on the red recliner, the one nearest to the fire. His body warms quickly and he sighs in content. “How come you’re up so early? Couldn’t sleep?”

Jisung shakes his head. He seems to give up on his search and instead sits on one of the bar stools, swinging around gently. His feet still touch the ground, however, and Taeil is only slightly jealous of that. “I usually wake up early, too, but I like to stay in bed until one of the others gets up.”

“What changed today?” Taeil prods. He doesn’t mean to intrude but he thinks it’s strange to see the youngest resident of the house out of bed at such hours.

The awkward shuffle of Jisung’s feet only serves to make Taeil more curious. “I wanted to find the scrapbook Chenle hyung and I did a while ago. I have some pics of the angels and thought we could start adding them in.”

A warm feeling settles on Taeil’s tummy. The raw sincerity in Jisung’s voice, coupled with the sheer sweetness of the gesture, is too much for him. Taeil coos without meaning to and has to laugh when Jisung grimaces and tells him it isn’t that big of a deal. “That’s great, Sunggie, I’m sure they’ll love it.”

Jisung grumbles something in return that is decidedly about Taeil being a sap. Taeil doesn’t deny it and, instead, asks Jisung if he would like to help him make breakfast. “I can help you look for the scrapbook afterwards and you can use my studio to work on it, so it can be a surprise.”

“Thank you, hyung.” Jisung’s smile is wide and honest. Taeil thinks the childishness to it is a stark contrast to the way his body has changed in the last year – he’s only seventeen years old, but he’s already taller than most of the others in the house, his shoulders broader and his voice deeper. Ten whines about it at least once a week, while Jaemin pinches his cheeks and says it’s all thanks to him.

“Come on, Kun and Ten usually kick each other out of bed at this time and look for me to pester.”

~

Breakfast is never a quiet affair in their home. Nothing ever is, if Taeil wants to be honest.

It’s nearing 10 am when the final residents wander downstairs, Yuta’s puffy eyes and Jaemin’s constant yawning enough proof of them staying up until the wee hours watching anime, again, as they are prone to do. Donghyuck offers Jaemin his bowl of fruit, still untouched, and smiles when the wolf thanks him and proceeds to demolish the poor melons. The witch’s hair is covered in flower petals, as is Mark’s, and Taeil has half a mind to ask them about it. He probably won’t get a straight answer out of them, anyway.

There’s a bit of an uproar as the last pancake is left on the table and three separate people reach for it, until Doyoung sighs exasperatedly and gets up to make more. Chenle is happy with his grapefruits and strawberries, curled up on a stool by the island, and Renjun shoves toast into his mouth like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, but everyone else is a menace while eating. Taeyong doesn’t eat, but he knows how to cook, and he’s busy by the stove, trying to come up with something light for Johnny, the man down with the flu.

As the adults slowly filter out of the kitchen and only the kids remain, Taeil wisely keeps his mouth shut and continues to sip at his coffee from the corner table. He pretends to be immersed in the newspaper in his hands while hiding a smile behind the rim of his cup, his ears metaphorically perking up.

“Are we going to the mall today or what?” Renjun asks, a mouthful of toast impeding his speech from being anything more than merely understandable. “Lemme know now so I can mentally prepare to kiss my Sunday goodbye.”

“You sound like an old man,” Chenle cackles. Taeil sees Renjun throw an entire banana at the fairy, but even that doesn’t stop the laughter. In the end, Renjun settles for grumbling something under his breath.

“I actually don’t know if Yuta hyung will let me go,” Jaemin muses, “so I might have to sneak out.”

Mark snorts. “What are you, five? Why wouldn’t he let you go?”

“He’s just mad at me for what I did the last full moon.” Taeil raises an eyebrow in agreement, knowing why Yuta is mad. “He acts like he’s fine with me and then tells me I can’t have dessert.”

“Poor, whipped Nana,” Donghyuck laughs.

“Shut up, Lee. I’m going. I’ll just tell him I have to buy something for college or whatever.”

They continue to discuss their plans for the day with each other through bites of their breakfast and coffee. Taeil stays quiet like a mouse, smiling to himself. It didn’t take very long for Taeil to realise that, to be perceived as the least threatening person in the house, is the greatest blessing he could have had received. Everyone, but particularly the kids, considers him as intimidating as a new-born puppy, and it works in his favour all the time. Especially at times like this, when he can sit in the background and hear them make plans, diss the adults and insult each other without being noticed. Taeil knows he isn’t the only one that doesn’t buy their sweet, innocent act they try to sell, but he’s certainly the one to witness most of their dumb shit.

~

Later that day, Taeil offers to give them a ride to the mall. “I have to run some errands,” he tells them nonchalantly, already tugging on a coat and searching for his car keys. “I could drop you off and pick you up when I’m done, if you want.”

The kids – boys, almost adults now, if Taeil admits it, and it hurts his heart – share a look full of meaning before they agree. Jaemin is particularly itchy to get out of the house as soon as he can, and Taeil has to bite his tongue to keep himself from making a comment about it. The entire ride is filled with playful banter from the same-aged friends, while Mark sits in the passenger’s seat and jokes around with Taeil. Chenle and Jisung, sat at the back of the van, share earbuds and doze off in each other’s shoulders. Yukhei took another car and is driving the three angels, even if Taeil insisted there was enough space in his car. There isn’t, as Yukhei pointed out, but Taeil didn’t want anyone to feel left out.

Taeil goes about his business leisurely. He knows he’s in no rush to be done fast, and he wants to give the boys as much time as possible to annoy each other while terrorising the patrons at the mall. Typically, he wants to be home as soon as possible, if only to see his lovers, and he mildly regrets not taking any of them with him. That regret amplifies as he walks past a newly opened café and he thinks that Jungwoo would probably love it.

He pushes that thought away and goes to the pharmacy, Johnny’s recipe scribbled down on a piece of paper and clutched in his hand. They agreed to try traditional medicine before attempting to cure him through magic, mostly because _he’s_ the one to usually prepare the potions and he isn’t exactly in the state of mind to be anything but delirious. Afterwards, he goes to the bank to retrieve his new credit card and take out cash, then to the new minimart to buy some random necessities he knows are needed in the house.

It’s when he’s at a store, pre-emptively buying gifts for the upcoming birthdays, that he receives a cryptic text message from Doyoung that only reads _I see you._ Taeil snorts at that and turns full circle, searching for the vampire. He isn’t too hard to find – or maybe Taeil is just hyperaware of them by now – and Taeil spies him by the other side of the store, looking at some ridiculously ugly sweaters on display.

Taeil knows he can’t exactly creep up on a vampire, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. He sidles up to Doyoung’s side and, once he’s at his elbow, says, “That’s a fucking ugly sweater and I advise you to put it back where you found it.”

Doyoung laughs, that breathy laugh of his that he reserves for particularly bad jokes he finds amusing, and does as he’s told. “Did you know Jaemin is grounded and not supposed to be out of the house?”

“Really? I had no idea.” His tone conveys that he did, in fact, have an idea, he just didn’t care.

Doyoung looks at him from the corner of his eye and smiles. “You’re cute, Taeil.”

Taeil tries his damn hardest not to blush, but he can still feel his face warm at the sweet words. “Shut up,” he grumbles. “Was that for Sicheng? Yuta?” he asks in a valiant attempt to throw the attention off him. His skin feels prickly under Doyoung’s gaze, the vampire’s expression too open and affectionate for Taeil’s strict no PDA rule. He thinks the most accurate way to describe it is to say he feels naked.

“Kunhang, actually,” Doyoung corrects him, effectively redirecting his eyes to the sweater in his hands. “His birthday is coming up.”

Angels don’t have birthdays, but a few days after their arrival, Johnny insisted they chose dates to celebrate their existence. Kunhang chose one without looking at the calendar, after hearing the date on TV, and smiled bashfully when he realised it was close. They also learned, that day, that Yangyang was created a full century after they were, and Renjun was quick to decide he would assume their age, so they could have another 2000 boy in the house. Taeil was glad to see the boys take them in so quickly and openly.

“Let’s find something for him that doesn’t say we hate him.” Taeil drags Doyoung away from the display – well, no, he couldn’t drag him anywhere, but Doyoung lets him tug his arm and lead the way – and they riffle through some drawers and hangers, suggesting things to each other and either approving or vetoing each.

Taeil finds a nice jean jacket for Kunhang, and Doyoung buys a pair of sneakers for him to go with it. They exit the shop with the thought of window shopping, not quite hand in hand but close enough for their fingers to brush and for electricity to shoot up Taeil’s arm.

“Your thoughts are so loud,” Doyoung tells him, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “I can hear you even through the block.”

Taeil blushes violently. Doyoung laughs aloud this time and swings his free arm over Taeil’s shoulder, tugging him closer. “You’re so cute,” he says again. “Wanna get some coffee? I assure you the kids won’t want to leave just yet.”

~

It isn’t like Taeil and Doyoung don’t have anything in common. In fact, having known each other for such a long time, they share more interests than most of their housemates do, and their shared past makes it so that they can talk about almost anything without falling silent. It is simply that, when together, they tend to talk about their lovers more than anything else.

“I was thinking of buying Yuta and Sicheng a couples’ trip to Jeju,” Doyoung says, “since their birthdays are so close to each other.”

“Doie, be honest, you just want to get rid of Yuta.”

Doyoung laughs in the midst of taking a small bite out of Taeil’s chocolate lava cake. He doesn’t eat, but he likes to sample random foods just for the hell of it; Taeyong doesn’t get it, claims human food tastes awful and he’s more than happy to consume blood bags for the rest of his existence.

“That might be part of the reason, yes,” Doyoung agrees easily. Taeil likes to poke fun at Doyoung and Yuta’s seemingly hate relationship, but he knows they’d kill for each other. “Plus, I heard them talking about the beach the other day and thought they’d like it.”

“What are you planning on getting Yangyang?” Taeil asks.

This time, Doyoung takes his time answering. He’s lost in thought and Taeil lets him mull it over – he polishes off the dessert in the meantime and smiles cheekily when the vampire notices. Doyoung only rolls his eyes at him and supresses a smile of his own. “I was thinking of buying him a videogame console,” Doyoung finally replies. He takes a last sip of his coffee – black, bitter and disgusting, Ten calls it – and continues. “I noticed he likes to play with Jeno and thought he might like to have a console in his own room.”

“Maybe I can buy him a game, too,” Taeil says, pensively. “Do you know what kind of games he likes?”

Doyoung thinks about it for a long second. “I’ve seen them play a lot of strategy games, and horror as well. We can try snooping around this week to make sure, if you want.”

“Are you suggesting we play spy?” Taeil teases.

Doyoung looks at him seriously. “Yes.”

Taeil can’t help but laugh aloud. Doyoung can be ridiculous sometimes, even if it isn’t too often, and Taeil loves him all the more for it.

~

“Aw, were you two on a date?” Donghyuck calls out teasingly when he spots the two waiting by the mall’s entrance. He’s hand in hand with Mark, seemingly uncaring of the looks they receive – Taeil would buy the bravado if he didn’t know him as well as he does and didn’t notice how particularly loud and annoying he’s being – and his cheeks are glittery with something. Taeil is willing to bet that Renjun has a lot to do with the makeup.

“You know? I was planning to offer driving some of you back so you wouldn’t all be squished in Taeil’s car, but now I’ve decided you can choke.”

Chenle immediately springs into action, latching onto Doyoung’s arm and peering up at him with big, puppy eyes. “Hyung, can Sunggie and I go with you? Donghyuck is being a brat.”

“Hey, that’s hyung to you.” Donghyuck looks as offended as if Chenle just insulted his magic.

Doyoung gives a long suffering sigh. “Alright, I can take the two of you home. Will you be alright going with Xuxi? Or would one of you like to come with me, as well?” he asks the three angels. Dejun looks surprised to be addressed; having little to no contact with the older members of the house, but Kunhang perks up and agrees right away. “Yukhei has bad taste in car music,” he stage whispers.

Yukhei gives an outraged whine and points an accusing finger at him. Jeno quietly tells him it’s true and it does nothing to sooth the betrayal.

They’re back at the house before they know it. Jaemin smiles sheepishly at Hansol when he runs into him at the front entrance, but the older wolf just shakes his head and walks past him. Taeil knows Hansol isn’t actually mad at him, Yuta is the one holding the grudge – and he’s being damn bad at it, too – but Jaemin takes it to heart and he trails after his older brother with a pout. Taeil rolls his eyes at their antics and goes upstairs to check on his idiot boyfriend.

Johnny has always been bad at taking care of himself. He excels at looking after others, ever since they met, but when it comes to his own health and well-being, it is as if he forgets all about it. Once, he walked out of the apartment in the middle of the rain to pick up Renjun from high school on his freshmen year because Ten was busy at the shop and their car was getting fixed. It resulted in him bedridden for two days with uncontrollable coughs and sniffs, but Johnny claimed it beat leaving Renjun for who knows how long in the school. Taeil couldn’t be too mad, considering Renjun was still getting used to school and hated being alone for longer than strictly necessary.

He finds the witch doctor exactly where he knew he would, covered in blankets and spooned by Taeyong. It’s been a thing among them, when someone is sick, to keep at least one vampire and one wolf at hand to regulate the patient’s temperature. If they are running a fever, either Doyoung or Taeyong will be there, and if they’re shivering, Yuta, Hansol or Jaemin will take over. Taeil thinks it’s a blessing to have both ends of the temperature spectrum at the ready. On the other side of the room, Ten is reading a magazine while keeping a careful eye on Johnny, and Jungwoo is curled up at the foot of the bed, fast asleep.

Johnny is still a bit delirious from the fever and his throat is raw from all the coughing he’s done the last couple of days, but he smiles like a thousand suns at the sight of Taeil and it makes the human’s heart do summersaults in his chest. “Taeil,” he croaks. Jungwoo stirs awake, sends Taeil a sweet grin, then knocks right back out.

“I brought you your medicine,” Taeil shows the bag hanging from his wrist. He stuffs everything else in his closet and moves to crawl onto the bed with them.

“My hero,” Johnny whispers. He’s asleep right after the words leave his mouth and Taeil chuckles. He runs a gentle hand through Johnny’s hair and smiles at the pleased hum he gives in his sleep.

“How’s he doing?” he asks the two remaining boys.

Ten locks his phone and leaves it on the drawer, relocating to the bed. With four grown men, it’s a tight fit, even if two of them are the shortest people in the house, but they make it work. Taeyong is fixated on keeping Johnny comfortable through everything, but he leans over his sleeping body to kiss Taeil’s cheek in greeting. “He’s doing better than this morning,” Taeyong says. “He had soup and a small chicken breast for lunch, but he’s been sleeping for the most part.”

Taeyong’s hand moves to brush some of Johnny’s hair out of his forehead and Taeil catches a glimpse of silver, his block bracelet, before Jungwoo is wiggling his way between Taeil and Johnny. The demon latches onto the witch doctor, the two accommodating to each other immediately, and Taeil can’t bother to be upset.

“Careful,” Taeil warns, “I don’t want you getting sick, too.”

“Incubi don’t get sick,” Jungwoo murmurs. His voice is muffled by Johnny’s collarbones and Taeil thinks he can see one of Johnny’s tattoos move towards him.

“Neither do vampires,” Ten says, “and we pixies don’t catch human diseases, either. If anything, you’re the one in danger of catching his germs. Are you sure that you should be here? I don’t think the house can afford you getting sick, we’d fall apart without you.”

“Yeah, well,” Taeil splutters, “I was his boyfriend first so I’m not going anywhere,” he huffs.

Taeyong laughs silently and Ten muffles his own giggles into the skin of Taeil’s neck. Taeil wants to be annoyed at them, but he can’t. “You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbles. Ten makes a sound of agreement and Taeil nearly melts at the confession.

“We love you, too,” Taeyong tells him sweetly. His eyes are big and honest and threaten to steal Taeil’s sanity.

“You guys are so embarrassing,” Taeil whines. Ten and Taeyong laugh at him in unison and Taeil is definitely annoyed now, but it dissipates as soon as it comes.

Taeil doesn’t realise he’s drifting off until he’s abruptly awakened. He blinks his eyes slowly, notices he’s halfway on top of Ten and that Taeyong is gone, replaced by Yuta. It means that Johnny’s sweating off the fever, which is good, but also that the bed is now warmer than before. Taeyong is sitting where Ten was when Taeil came home, except he’s curled into Hansol’s lap; in that state of dozing off vampires seem to fall into sometimes. Hansol is asleep and snoring into his chest.

The bedroom is full of their partners. There shouldn’t be room for everyone, but they always manage to make it work. Doyoung is on the windowsill, Kun with him, the two sharing a blanket even if Doyoung doesn’t need it while Kun sleeps with his head on Doyoung’s shoulder, and their hands are linked. Sicheng and Jaehyun are fast asleep on the small divan Johnny insists on keeping in the bedroom, the dragon splayed over Jaehyun, the witch’s fingers sparking pink rivets of light even in his unconscious state – Taeil knows it only happens when he’s feeling something too strongly, and the pink indicates love. So, you know, Jaehyun is the sweetest boy.

“How do you manage to find a place for everyone?” Taeil murmurs. He’s not entirely conscious and therefore asking stupid questions. He knows perfectly well that they all make space for each other.

Ten hushes him distractedly. The pixy isn’t sleeping yet, he’s usually one of the last to fall asleep no matter what, and his hand is tangled in Jungwoo’s hair as he pets the demon. Jungwoo is right where he was earlier, tucked under Johnny’s chin and snoring peacefully.

“The kids wanted to sleep here as well but they quickly realised there wasn’t enough space,” Doyoung chuckles softly. “So they took over the rec room and are having a sleepover.”

“Not kids anymore,” Taeil protests, his voice laden with sleep, “they’re almost adults now. Too fast, go back.”

Ten and Doyoung share a fond look at his expense. Ten feels vindictive and scowls. “Renjun’s voice is deeper than yours, Ten.”

It effectively wipes the smile off Ten’s face and the pixy nearly weeps. “My baby is all grown up now.”

“Remember when he got sick and called you dad?” Doyoung asks.

Taeil remembers that day vividly. Renjun was fourteen years old at the time and they all still lived in the tiny apartment above Johnny’s shop. As Ten said, pixies don’t catch human diseases, but they do fall ill every once in a while. For Renjun, it happened during a school week – Ten thinks it was the stress that made him sick – and his fever was so high he was delirious and kept having nightmares whenever he closed his eyes. The disease was positively more violent than a human’s and Taeil was terrified for him, refused to leave the bedroom for anything other than to cook. Ten was out of his mind with worry, stayed awake with Renjun in solidarity and made sure he was always hydrated. One evening, while Doyoung cuddled Renjun in the hopes of lowering his body temperature, Renjun latched onto Ten’s hand and asked him to stay with him, “Please, dad.” He claimed not to remember any of it the next morning, and Taeil wouldn’t put it past him. Ten was disappointed for all of three seconds until a smile overtook his features and he was back to his old, bubbly self.

Ten tears up at the memory. He wipes his eyes with his free hand and ignores Doyoung’s cajoling, laughing at his own tears. Hansol stirs, groans at them to, “Shut up, it’s hard enough with Tae’s bony ass on my thighs,” and is rewarded with Taeyong grinding said bony ass down with vengeance. Hansol groans in pain and threatens to dump him on the floor.

“Why are you being so loud?” Jaehyun whines. Sicheng swipes at his face until he can muffle his mouth with his hand. “Babe, your hand smells like dirt, what the fuck?”

“Helped Kun with the gardens today,” Sicheng mutters.

“And you couldn’t wash your hands?”

“I did but the fertilizer is really strong.”

“Oh my Gods, get your hand away from my mouth, are you trying to kill me?”

“Loud,” Yuta moans. He tightens his grip on Johnny and attempts to roll them both over, but Jungwoo doesn’t let them get too far. It rises Kun from his sleep and the dragon peers at them all sleepily from his perch on Doyoung’s shoulder before saying, “Sometimes I wonder why we don’t all sleep together every night, and then this happens and I remember.”

“You love us,” Ten counters with a cheeky smile. Kun grumbles at him but doesn’t disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to all of you who gave this mess a chance, i love you all ♡♡♡

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/doitsushine92)   
>  [my cc](https://curiouscat.me/doitsushine92)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> go ask about the side characters I wanna ramble when I can


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